Homecomings
by LeDiz
Summary: Every family has certain things they do in order to Keep the Peace. Normally, this isn't a problem, only it's been a long time since Yuugi's family included his father, and things aren't the way they used to be.
1. News

_**Homecomings**_

* * *

_**# 2 – News; Letter**_

**DISCLAIMER**: Okay, here's the deal. This, although technically a story in and of itself, is not a story. It's a collection of one-shots that travel along the same storyline. It would be a story except it has no real point, so it is in fact part of the These Things We Do collection of one-shots. If that's too confusing for you, just believe that this is a kind of crappy chaptered story, okay?

_Oh, and it's set in the fanon world of solid darks, and for reasons known only to myself I've given Yuugi's mother the name Omocha. Just so you know. Barely any canon here whatsoever…_

* * *

The term between the winter and spring breaks was a bit of a problem for Yami.

Yes, it did mean that once it was over Yuugi would be free for two whole weeks where he had no choice but to obey Yami's every whim and desire (especially because he often made the wonderfully foolish promise "I'll make it up to you on break"). But it was also the final term, which meant that halfway through, Yuugi became swamped with study and assessments and barely had time to sleep, let alone stop and spend time with him.

Luckily, Yuugi understood why this was a problem, and usually managed to come home from the library to study at his bedroom desk. That way Yami could be near him and usually talk to him without actually stopping his work.

Unfortunately, the current assignment was a Latin translation, and Latin always made Yuugi angry because not only did he not understand it, but it was a dead _European _language and therefore completely useless, in his opinion. And Yami was absorbed in the terms and conditions of a Gin tournament he was thinking about entering and was therefore being absolutely no distraction at all.

"I suck at languages," he stated, glaring at the open textbook.

Yami didn't even look up. "You're getting better at English."

"I suck at languages," he repeated.

"Look at it this way, aibou. Those Harry Potter books you read – they use Latin, don't they?"

Yuugi blinked, then frowned, turning in his chair to look at his other self, sprawled on the bed with his laptop on his stomach. "You're telling me to study so I can read a Latin Harry Potter book?"

"Well, that… they make a Latin Harry Potter book?" Yami glanced at him in confusion, then shrugged. "Actually, I was talking about the names and whatnot. The spells. Didn't you tell me once that they all mean something in Latin?"

"So?"

"So, when you finish learning Latin, then you can read the Harry Potter books and actually know what the hell they're talking about," he said calmly, going back to the laptop.

Yuugi sighed, propping his elbow on the desk. "I think I'll wait for the dub. I'm just bored, the other me."

"Is that not the point and purpose of homework?"

"No, that's the point and purpose of doing homework at the library. I come home so you can annoy me and not let me do enough to get this bored."

Yami smirked, looking around at him again. "You're going to regret saying that, you know. But in the meantime—" He shoved the laptop off his stomach and rolled up to sitting, automatically sliding back into a position Yuugi could only describe (in his mind and thankfully never to Yami's face) as regally sexy. He crossed one leg over the other, leaning back on his palms as he gazed at Yuugi with amused eyes. "—I can think of about six things we could be doing right now other than work."

"Such as?"

"Well, there's a movie showing that I really want to see. Not because it should be any good, but because I want to laugh at the mad Greek prince. There's also this irritating child at the arcade that really should be taught that he is in fact not the King of Electronic Games. And finally, I'm starving, and need real food before your mother tries another experiment."

"Aw, come on. The homemade pizza wasn't that bad…" he said, grimacing as he remembered the charcoal-covered tomato batter they had been forced to swallow. "And that's only three things. What are the other three?"

A very slight movement of Yami's jaw showed he actually did have another three things in mind but wasn't going to suggest them. As always, Yuugi absently wondered what they were, but before either of them could speak the door opened a few centimetres as his mother knocked on the door.

"Yuugi, do you have a moment?"

He smiled, turning a little further in his chair to fold his arms over the back. "We were just talking about avoiding work. What's up?"

She smiled at him, then looked Yami over with a slightly irritated eye. He glared back at her, then stood up to sit on the desk so she could sit on the bed, opposite Yuugi's chair, without having to actually come close to Yami. Yuugi rolled his eyes at their antics, but Omocha didn't comment, just held up several sheets of paper she had been hiding behind her back.

"What's that?"

"A letter from your father," she said, handing it over. "He's going to be finished on the Brockman case by the end of the month."

"Brockman?"

"The English law firm with a partner that keeps sexually harassing his clients."

"Oh," Yuugi nodded, flicking through the pages. Like most of his father's letters it was full of 'if only I were there' and 'how much I love you' and other mushy stuff. They were part of the reason Yuugi was glad he didn't see his mother and father alone together much. "Where's he going after that?"

"Tokyo."

Yami raised an eyebrow as Yuugi immediately stiffened, violet eyes flashing up to meet his mother's gaze. "Say what."

"A quick meeting with his employers, then…" She drew back her lips in a strange expression. "He should be here for the spring break."

Yuugi stared at her for almost a minute, then tossed the letter onto his desk with a heavy groan. "Oh, man…"

"What?" asked Yami, and the two Mutous looked around at him with identical expressions of resignation.

"Dad's coming home," said Yuugi.

"Yeah, I got that. Why is this a problem?"

"He's a little… uh…" Omocha winced, her wrist wind milling as she searched for the right word.

"…traditional," finished Yuugi. "And you've gotta realise we're not a very traditional household."

Yami furrowed his brow, thinking over the other households he knew. Jounouchi lived alone with his drunken father, Ryou and Bakura basically had an apartment to themselves since Ryou's parents lived in Kyoto more often than not. Anzu's father was in America more often than not, and her mother was barely ever home. Honda lived with his accountant father and housekeeper mother, constantly spending time at his investment broker brother's house so he could beg money from him.

"I don't see why not."

"Well… Grandpa, for one thing," said Yuugi, uncomfortable. "He's so… Grandpa."

"I understand that, but –"

"And we live in a game shop. There are two things in that statement Makito didn't like too much," continued Omocha. "And then of course, there's the fact I didn't kick _you _out on the street."

"Mum," sighed Yuugi, before Yami could react. "Not now."

"No, Yuugi, this is what I really came in here to talk about," she said pointedly. "Think about it for a moment. How is your father going to react to… this?"

Yuugi's eyes reluctantly followed her gesturing hand, sweeping over Yami appraisingly. He was dressed in the new leather pants he had bought to match the ones Yuugi had bought for him to wear at Duelist Kingdom. This was complemented by a simple black belt across the band, the usual studded deck-case one, and Yuugi's favourite: a black one with small holes which Yami had clipped a golden chain to. His shirt was simple black cotton, but he was also wearing the puzzle, dog collar and his cartouche. His wrists held his old ankh cuffs, and his fingers were home to no less than four rings. His legs were crossed at the knee, and Yuugi had a feeling he knew where his mother's eyeliner had gone to, judging by the slightly darker colouring above his already thick lashes. And Yami was being fairly conservative today.

"Um…"

"And you still aren't nearing Jounouch-kun's height or Honda-kun's speech patterns," she reminded him worriedly. "You still don't play sports, you haven't touched your guitar in over a year, your skateboard has enough dust to start a farm, and your grades are barely half what they should be."

"What they _should _be?" repeated Yami, but the other two weren't listening as the blood drained from Yuugi's cheeks.

"Uh… uhm…"

"The shop is barely turning a profit, the house is a mess and Yami-chan here is too lazy to ever roll out his futon," she continued, more nervous by the second.

"Yami-_chan_?" snarled Yami.

"Well… um… I made friends?" offered Yuugi, but she shook her head.

"A gang member, a bully, an occultist, a thief, a tomboy, a kidnapper's game-designing son and the cold-hearted president of Kaiba Corporation," she said, and Yuugi twitched nervously.

"And you couldn't have told me all this after my exams?" he asked weakly.

"I thought you would need time to deal with that," she said, waving at Yami again.

"Good point…"

They stared at each other for a long second, then both shuddered and looked away. Yami's eyebrow ticked in frustration several times, before he said, in a carefully controlled voice, "What the hell are you two talking about?"

Omocha sighed heavily. "Yami, you have to understand… I love my husband, really. But even though I like you less than the worms I scrape off my high heels, you are in fact easier to live with."

Yami stared, then turned to Yuugi, who shrugged. "Dad's a nice guy. He just likes things to be the way he likes them."

"Meaning what?"

He shrugged again. "Meaning, he would have preferred that I took after his side of the family, rather than Grandpa. And things'd probably go a lot smoother if Mum didn't work… and men didn't wear leather and eye make-up…"

"Eye make-up?" repeated Omocha, her head snapping around to glare at Yami, who turned his head just as quickly so his hair hid his face from her.

"When you say 'smoother', what exactly do you mean? What does he do when things don't go his way?" he asked Yuugi, who smiled.

"Nothing like what you're thinking," he said firmly, laying a calming hand on Yami's thigh. "He likes to imply things, that's all. And he has very meaningful expressions."

"For instance, if he were here right now," began Omocha, looking at Yami sideways, "he would probably ask you if you were comfortable, and begin asking Yuugi about Anzu-chan."

The two boys blinked, looked down at Yuugi's hand, then up at each other. Yuugi blushed and quickly drew it back onto the table.

"Then can I ask why it's such a problem?" asked Yami, frowning at the movement.

"No real problem, it just…"

"—Wears on you," finished Omocha. "So we try and avoid it. The being said, Yuugi—"

"Yup."

"I know it's hard with all this, but if you could please try and do better these exams?" she asked gently. "And I'll take over the store accounts, and do some more cleaning, but with finishing up work before your break that probably means I won't have much time for cooking."

"No," he said firmly. "No, no, no…"

"What?" asked Yami.

"I am not cooking," said Yuugi, holding out a stubborn finger. "No way am I touching a fry pan. I do not know how."

"You are going to cook," snapped Omocha.

"Mum!"

"Cook!"

"Nn…" He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like an affirmation.

"And… could you… maybe…?" They looked up at Yami again, before Omocha sighed and stood up. She picked up the abandoned letter and leaned over to softly kiss Yuugi's temple. "Thank you, Yuugi."

"Yeah," he mumbled, and she smiled as she left the room.

Yami stared at the closed door for a moment afterward, then looked around at Yuugi again. "So, aibou… what does all this mean?"

"It means, the other me…" He let out a long breath, turning back to his Latin. "It means the next six weeks are going to be very interesting."

He frowned, watching worriedly as Yuugi bent over his homework.

* * *

_I told you there was no point. Did you not believe me, or something? Oh well. Read and review for me puh-lease?_


	2. Hey, you know

_**Ano sa**_

**DISCLAIMER**: Behold number five inthe collection of one-shots – "Ano sa", also translated as "Hey, you know". I had a bit of a quandary here, because I don't know if our arrogant, tough-guy Yami would ever _say _"Ano sa", but for the sake of this chapter needing a title, we'll overlook that, kay?

* * *

It had been a hard day. One of the hardest days of his life, in fact, but since he regularly dealt with dark magic and monsters, he had a feeling saying that would be a little melodramatic. So it had been a hard day. 

Since his father was coming home for the spring break to 'rest up', the game shop had to be in absolute peak condition. His mother had taken over the books from Sugoroku so she could make them neat and spotless. Sugoroku had cleaned every last inch of his store and back room. After finding how much it meant to Yuugi, even Yami had agreed to help out. He had started tending and hanging around outside the shop so the people that recognised him would see how much he valued the Kame game store and start buying things there, so the shop was actually doing well for the first time since the last game craze.

Yuugi, on the other hand, was stuck doing all the jobs no one else could do. His mother was too busy to cook – Yuugi was shoved into the kitchen. Sugoroku had trouble climbing up and down the stairs all the time to get to the storeroom in the rooftop – Yuugi was regularly sent up to fetch boxes of games that had been there since before he could remember. Only Yami had time to go shopping or run errands, and he never did chores without Yuugi or at least motivation from Yuugi – Yuugi was sent out at least twice a day. Omocha was scared of heights, Sugoroku was too old, and Yami wasn't really trusted when it came to finishing physical labour – Yuugi had been given the final week of school to put a layer of paint on the outside of the house.

The sun had set, dinner was finished, the dishes handed off to his sympathetic mother, and he had finished hauling the last box of stock downstairs. Yuugi collapsed face first onto his bed.

He lay there for several minutes, relishing the silence and stillness of his bedroom, but couldn't find the energy to be upset when his bedroom door reopened and Yami's confident footsteps strode over to stand beside the bed.

"Aibou?"

"M'dead," he stated without removing his head from the mattress. "G'way."

"No, I'm dead. Or at least a reasonable facsimile of."

He couldn't help it. He smiled, turning his head to look up at him out of the corner of his eye. "Something I can help you with?"

Yami made a face somewhere between a sad smile and a grimace, tilting his head in concern. "You're sunburnt."

"Yeah… and my arm's going to fall off, the batteries in my discman are dead, I have paint all over me, and if I move from this exact position my back will reduce me to tears. How are you?"

"I'm worried about you," he said, and knelt down, his elbow on his knee as he frowned. "You're pushing yourself far too hard. Ask Jounouchi or Honda to finish painting the house. You aren't built for this kind of exercise."

He smiled wearily. "Mum'd never go for it. She thinks Jounouchi's a thief and that Honda would end up painting the windows. She doesn't like them much."

"Then stop doing something else. I'll do the errands, or move the stock. You don't have to do all this."

"I'll give up cooking, how about that? I'm sure you can figure that out."

Yami smirked. He was rather fond of Yuugi's cooking, and had no intention of ever letting Omocha in the kitchen again. "I'll start moving the stock for you."

"But I hate cooking," he whined. "Come on, the other me, I'm dying of pain here, take pity on me! You cook!"

"Not a chance."

He groaned, collapsing back into the bed with his eyes closed. "Mmph. I'm too tired to argue with you."

Yami furrowed his brow, shifting into a more comfortable position as he looked over his other. He really did look exhausted, and he could tell from the way Yuugi was holding his shoulders and back that he hadn't been exaggerating about his muscles being painful. "Aibou, I'm sure your father would understand if the house wasn't completely perfect. Is it really worth all this pain just to make his stay a little more satisfactory?"

"No," Yuugi said quickly, so firm that Yami found himself blinking in surprise. "He's not worth the effort."

"Then why are you –?"

"Because it's important to Mum," he said wearily, sighing out a heavy breath. "And as part of a household we all have to do our part to keep the peace."

From the way he said it, Yami had a sudden theory he was reciting something he had been told a few hundred times.

"This is going to be my final break of freedom before the final year of high school," continued Yuugi, his eyes still closed despite the full awareness in his voice. "As soon as I go back to school, it's going to be nothing but work and stress for the next nine and a half months. I'm barely going to have time to sleep, let alone be with you, so I just want this break to be as stress free as time with my dad can be. If that means spending my last week of school painting the house and working my fingers to the bone, then by hell am I going to do it."

Yami grimaced, reaching out a hand to brush Yuugi's hair away from his reddened face. "And my existence is only going to make things worse, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but he's gonna have to meet you sometime," he said, shifting so Yami could run his fingers through more hair. "Just… try not to do anything too extreme while he's here, okay?"

"Got it. No banishing, no killing, no rampant torture," he listed playfully, and Yuugi chuckled.

"That's the idea. And try to keep the mother henning to a minimum, would you?"

"For you," he agreed, and Yuugi mumbled his thanks, before grunting.

"My back really hurts. Don't suppose there's any magic you can do on it?"

"Strangely enough, no," Yami said dryly. "My powers of darkness and destruction can't heal muscle tension, for some reason."

"The other me, I'm in pain. For you to be sarcastic right now is cruel."

He smiled, but fell silent, just running his fingers through Yuugi's hair in a soothing motion as his eyes trailed over Yuugi's shoulders. "Hey, you know… aibou, I may not be able to perform real magic on you, but perhaps I might be able to do something else to help."

"Mmph?" he managed, half opening one eye to show he was paying attention.

"Take off your shirt. I don't remember actually doing this, but I might be able to massage your shoulders."

Yuugi continued to stare at him through his half open eye for a moment, then slowly pushed himself up onto his knees and pulled off his shirt with a loud, protesting groan of pain. He threw the paint-covered garment onto the floor and lay back down, only glancing around to check it was what Yami wanted. He nodded and climbed up onto the bed, stretching his fingers before carefully laying his hands over Yuugi's shoulders. For a few seconds Yuugi just hissed in pain, gripping the sheets beneath his hands, before he suddenly stopped and slumped back into the bed without a sound.

"Aibou?" prompted Yami, pausing his movements in concern. "Am I really that bad?"

"No," he said, lifting his head slightly. "No, no, no, no…"

"So what…?"

"Keep going," he ordered. "It hurt to start with, but oh, man…!"

He smirked, pushing his thumbs back into the knotted muscles, and Yuugi moaned in pleasure, sliding back into the bed. Neither spoke for a few moments, Yami carefully kneading Yuugi's back and shoulders into some semblance of the human form. Aside from Yuugi's occasional hiss of pain when Yami moved onto a particularly tender area, the bedroom was silent, and a general feeling of warm relaxation began to fall around them.

"Aibou?"

"Mm?" He sounded half-asleep.

"About your father…"

"Mmph."

"You said he's not going to like me whatever I do? Are you sure there isn't some way…?"

Yuugi took a deep breath, preparing himself for the chore of lifting his head to speak clearly. "The other me, it's not you he's not going to like. You, I'm sure he would love. But you aren't me. The fact that I, girlie little Yuugi-chan that I am, am his son and have no intention of ever becoming someone like you isn't something Dad's going to be happy with."

"Ridiculous," he muttered absently.

"Worse still, when you talk to me, you're completely different to the big ol' nasty everyone in the duelling world is scared of, and for some reason people seem to think we're actually in the middle of this in-depth, American soap-opera style romance," continued Yuugi, and Yami rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, mouthing 'From their thoughts to your ears' before shaking his head and returning to his massage.

"I still don't see the problem. Yes, your mother hates me because of it, but she hated me to start with."

"She hates it because you're you. Dad will hate it because neither of us is a woman."

"Ah. The modern politically correct sham strikes again, I see," he said dryly, and Yuugi snorted.

"Something like that. Oh god! That's it, there… mm!" He rolled his shoulders, stretching his fingers, and Yami couldn't help but grin at the content moan rippling from his aibou's chest.

As much as he missed the close familiarity their original, unconscious mindlink had granted them, sometimes Yami was very glad his solidity had changed it so they both had to consciously work to achieve the same connection. It meant he was free to fantasise, and over the last month he had developed some very nice ones.

Although he had always had minor 'daydreams' about his aibou when he had been nothing but a spirit—though at the time logic had overrode his ability to participate in them—they had not been particularly realistic. Now that he could touch Yuugi at any time and in any way, he had been learning little bits and pieces that made his fantasies much better. He knew from one afternoon spent tickling Yuugi in an attempt to pull him away from his studies that Yuugi had sensitive palms, and that running a single finger along the line between his chest and ribs produced a shudder that made Yami's breathing hitch. He knew from wrestling Yuugi away from the remote that the muscles in his legs were strongest. He knew that when Yuugi did any truly strenuous exercise the sweat would soak the usually stiff roots of his hair and make it fall around his face.

Now he knew that Yuugi was vocal when particular satisfied.

Damn, he was definitely sleeping on his futon tonight. He was not going to risk sleeping next to Yuugi when he already knew the dream he would have.

"Nn… the other me… if this is the… uhh…" Yuugi rumbled again, emitting something close to a purr. "If this is the reward, I'm going to paint the whole… ah… paint the whole house three times over… aiyaaa…"

"I have a better idea," he said softly, letting his hand drift just that little bit too far down Yuugi's lower back. "You keep cooking, and I'll give you a massage in return."

Yuugi's groan turned into a moan halfway, and Yami let out a soft breath at the sound. "Aibou?"

"I'm seriously considering it," he said shortly, and Yami grinned. Now that was a win-win situation. Not only did he get to force Yuugi to cook for him, but he also got to hear these wonderful noises. Life was sweet.

But all too soon, the massage was done, and Yami leaned over to lie his cheek by Yuugi's. "Feel better?"

"Soooo much better," he mumbled happily, rolling over onto his back to smile up at him. He reached out to take one of Yami's hands and pulled him down so he was lying beside him, half leaning over Yuugi's chest. "I am in debt to you, my pharaoh."

He smirked, entwining their fingers together. He knew it was his overactive imagination, but Yuugi's sunburn suddenly looked much less like cooked skin and more like afterglow. It took everything he had not to lean down and kiss him. "The duty of the spirit of a Millennium item is to take care of its bearer."

"But you're not a spirit anymore," said Yuugi, smiling cheekily.

"But you are still my aibou. Now, are you taken care of?"

"Very well," he said, then made a face. "But I should go have a bath. I'm all yellow from paint."

Yami pulled theirs hands up to inspect Yuugi's nails, raising an eyebrow. "You cooked my dinner with these hands?"

"Hey, my hands are clean! It's just the underside of the nails, and my elbows, and jeans, and shirt, and hair…" He let go of Yami, gently pushing him away to roll off the bed. "Thanks for the hands, the other me. You saved my life."

"Always and anytime, my aibou," he said warmly, and Yuugi grinned before scooping his pyjamas out of the cupboard and trotting from the room. Yami continued to smirk at the door for a moment, then rolled onto his back, hands behind his head as he frowned.

Yuugi had explained his father very clearly – Makito was a friendly man, as long as you fit his expectations. If you didn't, then he was coldly patronising, making remarks that could be either offhand or direct but would alwayswear you down.

Irritated by the very idea that Yuugi would change who he was for this man, Yami had downright refused to do the same. He never had and never would change his actions or personality to suit other's expectations. But he just wasn't sure if this 'Makito' would listen to—let alone accept—the truth about their relationship. Which would make things difficult for Yuugi, who was… impressionable, at best.

He had three more days before their world would be thrown on its head… and he had no idea what to do about it.

* * *


	3. Homecomings

_**Homecomings (and/or visiting one's parents)**_

**DISCLAIMER**: I kinda… cheated a little with the title for this chapter. As it says, it's "Homecomings: _Visiting _one's parents", but I tweaked the theme to be "Meeting" for the simple fact that Yuugi technically still lives with his parents, they're just… not really involved with Yuugi. So, um… yeah.

* * *

The night was still and quiet, the only sound from the distant main road. It was coming close to two o'clock, but Yami couldn't sleep.

Last night, he had been woken up by a searing pain in his arm, and discovered it to be because of the impossibly tight grip Yuugi had on it, his nails sinking into the skin and twisting. It was a bad dream, causing Yuugi to mutter and grunt in his sleep, shifting constantly.

Yami wasn't surprised he hadn't woken up at first—he was a notoriously heavy sleeper, according to Yuugi—but seeing Yuugi in the throws of a nightmare was enough to make him nervous. Yuugi rarely slept badly when he was wrapped up in Yami's hold, the same as Yuugi's presence kept Yami from his own, more frequent nightmares. But even without him, Yuugi didn't move in his sleep much, unless he was having one of his 'feelings' in dream format. And they always worried Yami. Yuugi often had 'feelings' that turned out to be important, and occasionally they would invade his dreams. He would usually wave them off as nothing, but after two years of watching it happen, they were more than a minor concern to Yami.

Which is why Yami was down in the lounge room tonight, his legs crossed, arms folded, and mind completely lost in the possibilities.

He knew worrying about it was a bad idea. He knew from experience that when either of them had a problem it was better if they talked it over and considered everything together. He knew that when they worried on their own all they could do was get themselves further and further into a little depressed funk. He knew that was what he was doing right now.

But he didn't care.

Yuugi had told him some parts of the dream. It involved a jigsaw puzzle and a demon of some kind. Ryou had been important and assertive, which meant Bakura was somewhere nearby. And Yami himself had been there, losing strength but still fighting.

It sounded like a Dark Game.

Yami sighed, uncrossing his limbs and leaning back, his hands falling to the arms of the chair as if it were a throne. Ishizu had warned him that now he had decided to stay in this world they would keep coming. She had said there was no way to stop them without sealing the darkness and Millennium Items for good. She had told him. But somehow he just hadn't believed it…

Another Dark Game was coming… and he wouldn't be able to protect Yuugi.

There was no way around the hard truth of it. Now he couldn't take Yuugi's body and shield him from the danger; now he didn't always know where he was or what he was doing; now they both had to fight to make the mindlink work and it usually wore Yuugi out disturbingly fast… he couldn't protect him.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, biting his lip as he looked off to the side.

Everyone knew Yuugi was his whole world. He couldn't hide it. Marik had worked it out without even seeing him speak to Yuugi out loud. If a Dark Gamer wanted to hurt Yami, they would go after Yuugi. And now he couldn't always protect him…

His fist clenched on the arm of the chair, and he lowered his head to think.

The reality of his situation hit him hardest at times like this. In his own time, he could have just ordered a few dozen guards to protect Yuugi whenever he couldn't – assign a body guard that followed him everywhere. Hell, he could have had Yuugi chained to his wrist if he wanted, back then. But this wasn't then. And he couldn't do whatever he wanted.

He was nothing, in this modern world. He was a practically unemployable nothing. No education, no power, no connections… he wasn't even an adult in most legal senses of the word! He had Yuugi, and gaming. That was it. And he didn't even have Yuugi as much as he needed him – Yuugi needed his own life in order to stay sane. He needed to go to school and probably to university next year and then a real job… Yami's eyes narrowed in pain as he continued the thought. Yuugi needed his own real life; the one he would have had without the Millennium Puzzle. Friends, a job, a social life, a… a girlfriend…

Yami would always be at the mercy of the Dark Games. Yuugi would always be dragged into it because of Yami, but he couldn't leave him.

He put a hand to his head in helpless depression. By deciding not to fulfil his duty and finish his sacrifice to seal the Dark Games, he had ruined both their lives.

The sound of a door opening jerked him from his thoughts, and he looked up, his hand falling back to the chair. It wasn't the shop door, or coming from upstairs… he frowned, listening to the sounds appraisingly. The back door. It was actually the front door; one that led to the actual house rather than the store, but the family rarely used it, and usually only when going out to the minuscule backyard.

But whoever it was wasn't taking any pains to be quiet, and as Yami listened, two men spoke to one another, before bidding each other goodbye, and the door closed. Something heavy hit the floor, followed by something similar, before the sounds of someone padding their way up the narrow hallway caught his ear. He spread his hand, calling on his shadows just in case, but didn't move, just watched the door to the hall.

An average sized figure walked past the door, wearing what looked like a suit. From the sound of it, he was just putting his shoes in the entrance hall, and then yawned, loud and long, before snapping the hallway light on.

He walked back past the door, completely oblivious to Yami's presence or watching eyes. At first, all Yami could notice was a rumpled suit and flyaway blonde hair that hung over small, thick-framed glasses. When he returned, lugging a heavy suitcase which was clearly slowing him down, Yami was given time to appreciate that he was thin in the same way Yuugi was – his body appearing malnourished despite his full face. He was on the shorter side of average; Yami guessed he would probably be about the same height as himself; perhaps taller by a few centimetres. He also seemed perfectly at home. On the next passing, as he retrieved what was apparently his second and last suitcase, Yami took the time to look at the man's face. He knew from seeing a few of Anzu's fashion magazines that the Japanese idea of 'attractive' was very different from his own, and he had a vague idea that this man would be considered stylish to them, if not good-looking. He had fairly flat features, his nose small with a slight upturn at the end; his eyes were dark behind his glasses, and his jaw was smooth, rounded up to his ears without the slightest imperfection. His hair was styled much like the way Jounouchi was always trying and failing to achieve: thin blonde strands hanging in waves, flicking up in natural peaks at the end.

Yami made his judgement and decided he was unimpressed.

He knew from seeing decades old photographs that this was Yuugi's father. Although there were small things that reminded him of his aibou—the jaw and nose in particular—it wasn't Yuugi's looks that made him pretty or even worth noticing. It was his life—his spirit—that made him attractive. This man clearly _designed_ himself on what was 'beautiful', and Yami found himself repulsed.

Any chance of forgiving him for making Yuugi so eager to change had already failed.

He got to his feet, eyebrows meeting as he strode over to look down the hall to where the man was appraising the entrance. He didn't look impressed, and Yami's eyes narrowed, his hand rising to his hip in mounting dislike as he conveniently forgot that he had been complaining about the minuscule house only a week ago.

He picked up a book left lying on the shoe cupboard, shaking his head with a smile, then glanced up the stairs, hesitating a moment before heading upward. Yami waited an extra second before following, making sure to use his grace to full advantage in masking his presence. Kneeling down to peer over the top step, Yami remained still and silent as the man hesitated at each door, uncertain, and actually cracked open the bathroom door before realising it was the wrong one. He bypassed Omocha's room to peer into Yuugi's instead, but obviously not to check on his son, because he just tsked and moved back to Omocha's.

"I don't think I like you, Maki-tou-san," whispered Yami, as the man slipped into the room.

* * *

Judging by the bottles lined up on the desk, Yami had drunk himself to sleep.

Yuugi sighed, unmoving as he gazed at the four empty bottles. He didn't really mind Yami drinking beer—he was more jealous of anyone that could drink over his limit of one and a half—but it was vaguely annoying that he had done so without telling anyone. Every safety lecture Yuugi had ever gotten about alcohol reminded him that it wasn't good to drink alone, and he took it seriously. Especially when Yami got into his funks. He was naturally stupid when he was depressed. Alcohol rarely helped.

Still, a sleeping Yami was much better than an insomniac Yami, so he just pushed himself up enough to turn his head and look at him, completely unconscious and snoring softly. Yuugi snickered, wondering what their friends would say if they ever saw their perfect dark pharaoh like this, and clambered out of bed. He got quickly dressed, keeping one paranoid eye on Yami to make sure he really was asleep, and scooped the bottles into his arms to start downstairs.

"Morning, Grandpa!" he chirped, bouncing into the kitchen.

"Ah, Yuugi, morning," he replied, glancing up from the stove. "You're up early for a holiday. Do you want breakfast?"

"Mm! Whatever you're cooking!" he said cheerfully. "Once the other me wakes up, I've got big plans for today! I want to do all the things I won't be able to get away with once Dad's here."

"Such – Yuugi, _you_ didn't drink those, did you?" Sugoroku asked as he caught sight of the bottles Yuugi was throwing in the recycling box.

"No, the other me couldn't sleep last night, so I guess he found a cause-and-effect effect," he said, tossing the last one on top of the others. "I've told him to wake me up if he's gonna do it, but I guess there's a last time for everything."

"Hmm…" Sugoroku frowned, but eventually shook himself out of the thought and turned back to the bacon. "So what were you thinking of doing?"

"Oh, you know… the water park and stuff," he said vaguely. "Stuff I'm too old for."

He smiled. "Is Anzu going?"

"Mm. But the other me's being weird about it. He keeps telling her she shouldn't wear a bikini because it'll make the wrong people stare at her," he said, frowning slightly as he slumped down at the table. "I don't get what his problem is though. If I thought I was king of everything, I'd be ordering her to wear one all the time."

"One day, you will understand Yami's thoughts on the subject of women and Anzu, Yuugi," Sugoroku pointed out, grinning. "Until then, just accept it, I think."

"Mm, I guess you're right…" He was quiet a moment, his head falling into his hand as he considered, before he blinked and looked up at his grandfather again. "Do you think Yami's weird, Grandpa?"

"Hm?"

"Weird. The other me. Do you think he is."

He chuckled, turning off the stove and reaching for the rice cooker. "How so?"

"I dunno. I don't think he is, but he's the other me, so I'm kinda biased," he said, looking off to the side. "Sometimes our friends give him these really weird looks, like he's saying something or has done something that's not normal. And I don't think they can all be thrown off as cultural differences, you know?"

Sugoroku hesitated as he dolled out rice onto two plates. After a few close calls, he and Omocha had eventually agreed not to point anything out to Yuugi, and Yami was obviously grateful for that, because every time they did something to help hide the truth he would act much more helpful and civil for several days afterward. He put the rice cooker back in its place and started moving the eggs and bacon onto the rice. "I think he has very different ideas about the way things should be," he said finally. "You have to remember that Yami is going through a very difficult adjustment, one that will take much longer than the three months he's had."

Yuugi looked around at him curiously. "What, you mean being solid?"

"That too. I meant that we have to remember Yami and The Nameless Pharaoh are not really the same person," he said slowly, "yet he remembers the past of both. Who a person is is made partly by their memories and surroundings. The person he was as Yami and the memories he has as The Nameless Pharaoh don't really… mix well."

"You think?"

"Yes. Yami was a vengeful spirit, who merely existed as a Duellist with very little purpose beyond gaming. The Nameless Pharaoh was… King of a nation, responsible for everyone, a god… Memories of a time when he was all-important mixed with two years of being quite literally no one…" He shook his head as he put Yuugi's plate down in front of him. "I imagine the shift is more than he can really cope with. So occasionally he ignores what he _knows _is Right, and acts on what he _feels _is Right."

Yuugi furrowed his brow, his eyes falling to his plate in sudden guilt. "You think that's why he's weird sometimes? Because he's just trying to deal with everything?"

"I think it's probably because he's trying _not_ to deal with anything," he corrected, smiling slightly. "More trying to cling to the only thing he feels at home with."

"Me?"

"Mmhm."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I haven't been that supportive, worrying about school and stuff, either," he said quietly. "And now this stuff with Dad… I'm so selfish…"

Sugoroku smiled, shaking his head. "Not at all. I think you just accepting everything he does while still managing to worry about your own life is one of the things keeping him grounded."

"You think?"

He nodded once, then picked up his chopsticks to begin eating. "Don't worry, Yuugi. I'm sure that if Yami ever needs help, you will be the first person to know."

Yuugi managed a small smile, but still picked up his chopsticks to start inhaling his food as only a teenager could. The conversation quickly turned to a new set of Dungeon Dice Monsters Otogi had produced while he was in America, but they were barely into comparing it with the first set when a dark figure staggered into the room. Yami growled at their surprised looks, wandering over to drag a chair close enough to Yuugi that when he sat down he could slump into his aibou's shoulder. "My pillow woke up and left," he grunted in explanation, wrapping his arms around Yuugi's waist. "Couldn't sleep."

Yuugi just gave the top of his head a blunt look. "Quite comfortable there, are you?"

"No. Your collar bone's stabbing my eye," he grumbled, and Yuugi smiled.

"You know how to fix that, don't you?" he said, snapping his chopsticks playfully. "If you move…"

There was a pause as Yami wearily considered this statement, then smirked. "You're right," he said, then stood up, Yuugi squawking as he was pulled up with him. Yami then sat down in Yuugi's seat, pulling him back down onto his lap, and then buried his head into the crook of Yuugi's neck and relaxed into a vaguely alert doze.

Still holding his chopsticks up in the exact same position, Yuugi blinked several times before frowning at his snickering grandfather. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said, chuckling as he turned back to his breakfast.

Yuugi started back in on his own, but now picking up his plate so he didn't have to move as much, thereby leaving Yami comfortable with his new found pillow. He paused as he wondered if this was part of that acceptance his grandfather had talked about, then shrugged and continued chewing on his bacon. He didn't mind, and as long as Yami was happy, then so was he.

He went back to his conversation with Sugoroku, and Yami eventually woke up enough to join in, speculating on the likelihood of the game ever really taking off in Japan with all the bad press generated around its release.

Yami shook his head as he lowered the tea Sugoroku had given him to wake up. "Bad press is nothing. It's the Black Crown that suffered from it in the beginning – but no charges were ever filed and the store burnt down. The game'll be fine."

"Mm. It's a good game," said Yuugi, but he still frowned worriedly. "But if no one's willing to give it a chance because of what Otogi-kun's father did, then –"

"Again, you didn't press charges," Yami pointed out. "It's only really Domino that knows about it, and Otogi did speak out against his father's actions, so there's no problem."

"It's a game collector's game, anyway," said Sugoroku. "To play it properly, you need an official board table, and the rules and strategy are complicated enough that true game masters can still find it a challenge. They buy these things regardless of the creator. You two would buy it, wouldn't you?"

They both blinked, and then Yuugi laughed, blushing. "Yeah, but that's different! We know Otogi-kun – we know he's a good person!"

"You're a liar, aibou," muttered Yami, and he swallowed a mouthful of tea before continuing. "You didn't trust Otogi again until he came to see you in the hospital, but you were fanboying over the game the second you woke up."

"I don't fanboy!"

"You do, Yuugi," said Sugoroku, and they both smirked at Yuugi's expression.

"I do not fanboy!"

"But you admit you loved the game before you started trusting Otogi again," Yami said loudly, and Yuugi frowned.

"Otogi-kun's a good person – I always trusted him."

"Yeah," Yami murmured into his cup, but it was with the same tone of resignation Yuugi occasionally used when Yami was being over confident. Neither of them really believed it, but they would never point out the truth to anyone.

"Good morning, everyone!" chirped a new voice, and Yuugi and Sugoroku smiled as Omocha entered the kitchen, dressed in a pink, velvet robe Yuugi couldn't remember seeing before.

He waved. "Morning, Mum."

"There's some rice and bacon left," said Sugoroku, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Did you sleep well?"

"No, I did not," she said cheerfully, and Yami rolled his eyes.

"You're certainly cheerful for someone who didn't get a good night's rest," commented Sugoroku. "Excited about your husband coming home?"

"That's one way of putting it," Yami muttered into his cup, before finishing the drink and setting it down on the table. "Could I have a refill?"

Rather than her usual look of mock-surprise, Omocha just grinned at the request as she collected the kettle from its base and poured into his cup in one flourished movement. They all stared at her, but she smiled again as she turned away. Yami blinked twice, then sat back, pulling Yuugi back against his chest in the movement. "That makes one redeeming feature," he muttered. "He makes her tolerable…"

"What are you talking about?" whispered Yuugi, but Yami didn't answer at first, his eyes flicking toward movement in the doorway.

"That," he said pointedly, and Yuugi blanched, his hands immediately snapping to Yami's arms as a new figure stepped into the room.

"I'm ho-ome!"

Sugoroku choked on the mouthful of tea he had just swallowed, and Yami frowned as Yuugi's hands began scrabbling to pry Yami's arms from his waist. Despite their immediate reactions, Yuugi and Sugoroku both smiled broadly as the man from last night came to a stop at the head of the table. He was now dressed as if he had just stepped out of a home-living catalogue, in loose jeans and a white shirt with its sleeves pushed up his forearms. Yami felt his irritation rise again.

"Dad! Welcome home!" said Yuugi, surrendering to just grip Yami's wrists instead. "You – you're early!"

"Yes, I…" He faltered for a bare second as he took in the image of Yuugi sitting in another man's lap, but he just blinked once and continued almost seamlessly. "… I wrapped up my meeting in Tokyo a few hours before I thought I would, so I caught an early train. Hello, grandfather. I'm back."

"Welcome home, Makito," Sugoroku greeted evenly. "How are you?"

"Oh, as well as can be expected," he said, his eyes flicking back to Yuugi for a bare instant. Yami's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Makito wasn't looking. "And yourself? How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you. I would hate to be rude, but I have to open the shop," he said abruptly, standing up.

"True, true! That footpath isn't going to sweep itself!" laughed Makito, and both Sugoroku and Yami frowned ever so slightly.

"Yes… I'll call you when the others arrive, Yuugi," he added quietly, and Yuugi nodded as Sugoroku headed out the door.

"Ahh, still running that financial black hole, huh?" Makito said with a sigh, as they heard the door to the entrance hall close. "I would have thought you'd've talked him out of it by now, Omoko."

Her smile broadened ever so slightly, a slight stiffening spreading across her features. "It's doing quite well, these days. Not as well as some of the more modern stores, perhaps, but –"

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it?" he said. "Kids don't play old fashioned games anymore. They want technology, and a challenge. They want to play against artificial intelligence. Grandfather doesn't sell any of that."

"No, but he does sell Duel Monsters, and Capsule Monsters, and they're doing –"

"Duel Monsters is a fad. It'll go out of fashion soon and then where will he be?"

Yuugi swallowed hard, looking around at Yami nervously. He could feel Yami's fists clenching into his shirt at unintentional insult. Yami had been known to take Yuugi's playstation as a personal offence on occasion; he didn't like computerised games.

"I'm sure we'll get by," Omocha said placatingly, and held out the plate she had been loading with rice and bacon. "Would you like this? I can make a proper breakfast, if you like."

"Proper breakfast, I think."

"Alright… Yami?" She turned toward him, all smiles gone at his expression. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No," he grunted, and Yuugi bit his lip.

"Would you like this, then?"

"Fine," he said darkly, but didn't let go of Yuugi to take the plate. Yuugi had to reach out for it, and then set it on top of his own empty plate so Yami could reach. Yami only released his left hand from its hold and pointedly took Yuugi's chopsticks from him rather than even acknowledge Omocha's attempts to get him fresh ones from the drawer. Yuugi inwardly groaned, scratching his cheek as he tried to keep his expression still and stoic.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause as Makito turned his gaze back to Yuugi and Yami. Yuugi's fingers started fidgeting, but Yami just began eating without comment, leaning around Yuugi's shoulder to manage the rice and keeping a constant eye on Makito. Another second passed, and Omocha cleared her throat and began setting about cooking a 'proper breakfast'.

"Hi," Makito said finally, a disturbingly familiar smile spreading over his lips as he stepped around to stand opposite the pair. "We haven't met."

"No," agreed Yami.

There was a pause as Makito realised Yami didn't intend to say anymore. "Well then, we should. I'm Makito Yosoushi, financial executive."

Yami just raised an eyebrow. "Yami."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"You can call me 'Yami'," he said, and then filled his mouth with a rasher of bacon.

"That's your name…?" he asked, obviously amused.

He glared until he had managed to swallow. "No. But it's what you can call me."

There was another pause, and Yuugi clenched his eyes shut, bowing his head as he wished he could be anywhere but Yami's lap right now. But Yami still had a tight grip on his waist, and even with one hand he was strong enough to keep Yuugi there.

Eventually, Omocha coughed again, leaning her hip against the stove as she took her husband's attention. "Yami… kun comes from a very religious family," she said calmly. "They gave him a very important name, one which is believed to be too powerful to use in everyday conversation. Yami is merely a nickname he uses so that the 'power' may remain 'sealed'."

Yami raised both eyebrows at how easily the twisted truth seemed to come from her, and frowned as he realised she probably did this fairly regularly.

"Really," said Makito, turning back to Yami with a blank expression. "Interesting choice of name."

"Oh, I don't know, Yososhii," he said coldly. "I think I fit in this household better with a name that really fits me."

Yuugi lowered his head until his hand was scratching his forehead, effectively hiding his face from Makito's tightened expression.

"So… you would be a friend of my son, would you not?" asked Makito, would-be lightly.

"I don't know if 'friend' is the right word," Yami replied, his words clipped and icy.

"Well, you must be a very close friend to stay the night and seem so very comfortable with my family," he said casually, leaning over a little. "He a close friend, Yuugi?"

"Nuh-huh," he managed weakly, peering up through his fingers. "Y-Yami… kinda… here… um…"

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," he said cheerfully, and Yami yanked Yuugi closer, defensive.

"Yami lives with us," Omocha said, her back turned and voice surprisingly calm. "Yuugi brings a lot of friends home now, and Yami just stuck."

"Isn't that nice! I couldn't wait for the day Yuugi brought home a friend," said Makito. "Wish I had been there."

Yuugi laughed weakly, almost like a nervous giggle. Yami finally let him go and he shot up to standing, rubbing the back of his neck and eyeing the floor.

"Such an interesting friend, too," continued Makito, turning back to face Yami. "I wasn't expecting… someone like you until university at least. You expect this sort of thing there, but in high school…"

"H-He's… um…" began Yuugi, and Yami slammed his chopsticks down, shoving the plate away from him.

"Aibou's been through a lot in the past two years that people his age shouldn't have to deal with."

"Aibou? What do you mean 'aibou'?" asked Makito, suddenly confused.

"There aren't too many definitions, are there…" he said quietly, but his voice rose with his irritation. "He's my aibou. My partner. My most important person. The one I rely upon above all others. My light, my _humanity_, _my _–"

"Yuugi," snapped Omocha, and he jumped, then quickly slapped his hand against Yami's arm, silently telling him to stop talking. Omocha smiled again as she fixed them both with an oddly maternal gaze. "—Yami… why don't you two go and get ready? You're meeting your friends today aren't you? Aren't you going swimming with Anzu-chan and the others?"

"Mm," Yuugi said quickly, loudly. "Don't want to be late for Anzu!"

Yami scowled, but didn't comment as he was yanked out of his chair and in front of Yuugi.

"I'll explain everything to your dad," Omocha assured them, and Yuugi nodded, pushing Yami out of the room.

"It was nice to see you, I'll see you tonight, bye now!"

Yami remained silent when they reached the stairs and Yuugi stopped hurrying him along, instead sighing heavily and starting up the stairs. Yami just nodded to Yuugi's apologetic look and followed him up into their room. It wasn't until Yuugi had left for the bathroom that Yami looked in the mirror and let his annoyance out in a loud, controlled breath.

Makito Yosoushi, financial executive and Yuugi's distant father, had come home, and already started trying to make their home into his idea of the model family. It was already clear that whatever Yami did to fight him would just make things hard on Yuugi.

He sighed again, rolling his shoulders as he grabbed out some clothes for the day. Much as he hated to admit it, this was one time he had to align himself Yuugi's mother, and just hope she wouldn't make things worse for them all.

"I hate parents," he muttered, slamming the cupboard shut again.

* * *


	4. Place

_**Homecomings**_

_Place_

**DISCLAIMER**: Ah hah! Language aside – you may have noticed I generally don't use Japanese in my stories, beyond suffixes, 'bonkotsu', 'aibou', etc, and you may have realised it was because I don't think these words can really be translated into English and I don't want to get them wrong. Another one pops up here that you may or may not recognise: 'anata'. Anata is technically 'you', but it's also a traditional term women use to refer to their husbands, often loosely translated as 'dear', 'hubby' or most often 'Darling'. But I'm lazy. So!

* * *

The Kame Game Shop and its house had always had a rhythm to it. Yami often described it the way he did a duelling field – a steady give and take. It was quiet but powerful, and most were comfortable with it.

But now, the rhythm had been disrupted. Everything was different, and Yami, for one, couldn't relax. While Omocha was usually a background figure—cleaning, cooking, rushing off to work or social engagements—she had suddenly become the most noticeable person in the house. She sang, talked loudly, giggled with a high pitch, and was often seen being touched and kissed in ways that Yami was certain only newlyweds should. Sugoroku had taken a step back, and Yami quickly became used to only seeing him in the store or silently glowering behind a newspaper. He didn't speak much anymore, and he no longer commented on the girls that entered the store, or drooled over the aerobics instructors on television. He had become a quiet and simple game store owner, not the perverted old man Yami knew best.

Oddly enough, the greatest surprise had been Yuugi. The way he spoke about his father, Yami had been expecting his aibou to pretend to be someone like Jounouchi, or retreat into himself like Ryou – drastically change who he was in order to avoid being told he was Not Right. But aside from a slight increase in mood swings, the only difference in Yuugi at all was around Yami.

True, Yuugi had never been the one to reach out in search of touch – he never closed his fingers when Yami held his hand or crawled into Yami's lap unless he had already been pulled halfway there; he had never even sat down particularly close to Yami. But he had always given clear signs that he enjoyed Yami's more tactile approach: he leaned into touches and hugged back when Yami held him. Once, in bed, he had even pressed himself so close to Yami, wriggling and shifting, that there was barely space for air between them.

But in the three days his father had been home, Yuugi had made a point of avoiding any form of physical contact at all. He pulled his hand away if ever Yami tried to touch it, and made excuses to move if Yami sat or stood too close. He had even taken a definite step back when Yami had tried to push his hair from his face the day before.

In his heart, Yami knew it was nothing personal. It was his own fault for making the impression that he had by keeping Yuugi in his lap and sharing chopsticks while being introduced to Makito. He had set up an implied physical relationship, and rather than let the idea form any further, Yuugi was cutting it off at the pass. Yami could accept that and live with it, no matter how much it hurt.

Even if it did mean he had to sleep on his futon.

It amused their friends that Yami felt this was the worst thing. But not only was it uncomfortable (he had adjusted to many modern things, but he was never going to accept that it was common practice to sleep on what he could only think of as a padded sheet), but he slept worse when he slept alone. Memories of the things he had done, possibilities of the future and nightmares of the puzzle, all combined with night terrors to keep him in sleeping hell for as long as he could manage to keep his eyes shut.

"Aagh!"

He wasn't doing very well.

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as he focussed on the dark lump in front of him. He hadn't even realised he was flinging himself up out of bed before he caught sight of his knees, but he managed to force himself to stop, and then sit back. It was easy enough to calm down from nightmares if he relaxed and concentrated, so he took a deep, steadying breath, letting his eyes wander toward his comfort zone.

Unfortunately, the familiar ball of blankets Yuugi made in his sleep was empty, and Yami flinched as he met a pair of shining eyes less than a foot away. He flushed, embarrassed, and quickly untangled his hands from the bed sheets. It was irrational, because he knew Yuugi was well aware of his nightmares, but he hated admitting he was weak enough to have them. He paused after a moment, suddenly wondering why Yuugi was awake, sitting with his knees against his chest in the space between the bed and Yami's futon.

"Can I ask what it was about?" Yuugi whispered, but Yami shook his head.

"No."

Yuugi just nodded quietly, lowering his eyes to his knees, and Yami continued to stare at him. It was easier to wonder about Yuugi than consciously try to forget his nightmare. He finished relaxing out his dream-induced stress by extending one leg, leaning back on his hands.

"What are you doing up?" he asked quietly, and Yuugi glanced at him.

"Couldn't sleep."

Yami frowned, looking up at the bed. It was hard to tell from this angle, but it didn't look as if Yuugi slept badly. Not another dream, then. "What time is it?"

"Almost four."

He narrowed his eyes, watching him thoughtfully. Yami would never make the mistake of claiming to understand Yuugi – Yuugi didn't work on logic, and so rarely made any kind of sense. But Yami liked to think he knew Yuugi better than most. He could read the subtle shifts in his expression; see the difference between his 'trust' and real belief in a person; even understand what it meant when he hesitated a fraction of a second too long. Most people would probably take Yuugi's silence as a sign he was thinking, but Yami could catch the way Yuugi was avoiding his gaze by bare millimetres, and the very slight hunch of his shoulders. He had already made up his mind about something, and was just waiting for some kind of clearance.

Yami hesitated, then slowly shifted his weight, lifting his hand toward his aibou, but never moved close enough to touch. Yuugi was going to have to make a little effort to make up for three days of distance.

There was a long pause as Yuugi just gazed at the extended hand, appraising it carefully. After a few more seconds, he slowly uncurled his own hand and reached out to meet Yami palm-to-palm. They just stayed there for a few moments, before Yami began to shift, carefully sliding his fingers down to curl around Yuugi's hand, but Yuugi jerked before he could move so much as an inch, his fingers snapping down through Yami's until they were interlocked.

They froze, staring at their hands, before Yami looked up in slight surprise. Yuugi never made the first move in any situation, particularly if the results involved any form of intimacy. He couldn't even call people by their given name unless they had expressly asked him to. So it was only to be expected that when Yami met his gaze, Yuugi looked absolutely horrified at his own gall. Yami could already see the urge to retreat into himself forming, so he did the only thing he could think of to avoid that.

He gripped Yuugi's hand in return and pulled, only having to force a little before Yuugi fell onto his knees and up against Yami's chest. Yami turned his face into Yuugi's hair without even thinking, and kissed the shortest strands as he curled his free arm around Yuugi's back. There was no responding hold, but Yuugi gasped in a shuddering breath and leaned forward, gripping Yami's hand as tight as he could manage.

"Aibou," Yami whispered. "What are you doing…?"

He was still silent, but his head bowed against Yami's shoulder, and he felt the movement of Yuugi's eyes clenching shut against barely restrained tears. Yami frowned worriedly, and kissed his hair again before carefully shifting up onto his knees. It was hard to move to a more comfortable position without letting go, but this was the first time in three days that he'd been able to hold him, and he wasn't going to waste his time thinking 'damn, this is uncomfortable' when he could be focussed on Yuugi.

After a moment, Yuugi coughed, obviously trying to cover up any tears that might have formed, and pulled away again. Yami quickly turned to lean up against the bed, keeping his grip on Yuugi's hand so that he couldn't sit on his own but was forced back down into Yami's lap.

Rather than complain as he might have usually done, Yuugi just smiled in resigned amusement as Yami carefully arranged him like an oversized doll. His left arm went over Yami's shoulders, the right hooking around his neck; his legs were propped over Yami's left thigh and he was held in comforting place by Yami's arms locked around him.

He waited a moment to make sure Yami was quite finished, then sighed out a soft laugh, leaning his forehead forward until it met Yami's temple. He found Yami's gaze, all reservations gone with the easy smirk he saw there. "Hi."

"Yo," he murmured back, and they both smiled, closing their eyes in contentment.

* * *

The skin had gone plastic and hard, forming calluses on the pads and removing all signs of fingerprints. The doctors had been utterly perplexed by the burns that caused them – the fire department had classified them third degree and sent him to the hospital wondering if he would ever regain full use of his fingers, but by the time Yuugi woke up from his anaesthetic they were already forming the scars that now covered his palms and wrists.

Yami had a kind of morbid fascination with Yuugi's hands. Ryou had once suggested it was because the scars were a symbol of how much Yuugi cared about him, but Yami never said anything on the matter, and Yuugi didn't like to bring attention to his hands, so the issue was almost entirely moot.

But he was used to Yami's preoccupation, so he didn't really notice the way Yami stared as Yuugi tuned his guitar, carefully listening for which strings needed tightening and which needed full replacement. He was more amused by his friends' exploration of the storeroom, which the group was currently cluttered around, exploring the half-forgotten toys and family heirlooms.

"Hey!" Honda's head suddenly popped out from behind a plastic Christmas tree. "You have a skateboard!"

"I have three, actually," Yuugi corrected. "I was riding one yesterday, and the other one's in my cupboard."

"He's disturbingly good at it," Yami said absently, tilting his head as Yuugi finished tying up his current string.

"Yuugi was a great skateboarder back in the day," Anzu said proudly, peering over a box of ancient comic books. "He won first runner up in the city-wide tournament when he was only twelve."

Jounouchi and Honda stared, and Yuugi blushed, ducking his head and pretending to focus on his guitar string. "It was nothing…"

"Nothing, hah!" She grinned, folding her arms over the top of the box. "Most of the other competitors were our age. And Yuugi could out-trick most of them with his eyes closed!"

"I wasn't that good," he said shyly. "And anyway, I'm out of practice now. I can barely rail anymore."

"Ah, well, maybe that's a good thing," a new voice interjected, and they all looked around at the doorway in surprise. Yami scowled, turning away as Makito stepped into the room. He once again looked as if his clothes were picked directly from a catalogue, and he had been pushing his husbandry image today by fixing a slight fault in the upstairs plumbing. He even had a perfect grease stain across his cheek. "It's good you know when to grow out of your toys. Skate-boarding's old news these days, isn't it?"

Yuugi hesitated, then smiled, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess. Dad, I'd like you to meet my friends… well, some of them, anyway," he added, but Jounouchi jumped to his feet before he could say anymore.

"Yo, Uncle. I'm Katsuya Jounouchi, Yuugi's best friend," he said, holding up a hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you."

Makito gave him the quick once over, then smiled, raising his own hand in return. "Jounouchi, huh? So you'd be the legal workaholic?" he asked playfully. Yuugi had given him a quick rundown of his friends over dinner his first night at home.

"Yeah, that'd be me," he said, chuckling. "Anzu's the crook. But hey, school is school and you gotta pay for it somehow, right?"

"You're a smart boy, Jounouchi. Are you a good influence on this lazy layabout?" he asked, smirking as he nodded at Yuugi. "When he gets outta school, you gotta get on his back for me about getting a job, what do you say?"

He grinned and nodded. It wasn't often people suggested he was better than Yuugi in any way, shape or form.

"So you'd be… Bakura?" Makito guessed, but the one he was looking at, Honda, just laughed and shook his head.

"Nah. I'm Hiroto Honda," he said, stepping further around the tree and into better view.

"Oh, right, sorry about that," he said, nodding apologetically. "The responsible one, right?"

Anzu barked out a laugh, and Ryou, still sitting silent beside Yami, covered his mouth with his hand. Honda ignored them, shrugging to Makito. "Close enough. Do you mind if I call you Uncle, Mutou-san?"

"A little. But it's better than Mutou-san," he said brightly. "I'm a Yosoushi."

Honda and Jounouchi both blinked in surprise, glancing at Yuugi, but he just looked down at his guitar and Anzu cut them off before they could ask. "Nice to see you again, Yosoushi-san."

"Nice to – Anzu-chan! Anzu Mazaki, is that you?" He stared, a wide smile splitting over his face. "Well, well, don't you look different!"

She blushed, a brittle smile frozen in place, but didn't say anything. Makito just shook his head in disbelief, smiling as he took in the skirt and bangles. "You definitely grew out of that little tomboy phase, didn't you? But still not going for a traditional look?"

Yami noticed a very slight tick in Anzu's cheek.

"Oh, well, I'm not really one for long flowing skirts," she said politely.

"And it gets you attention, doesn't it?" he added, then winked at Jounouchi and Honda. "Eyes will wander where they're welcomed, na, boys?"

They laughed, but the others in the room remained still and unsmiling. Ryou even hunched in on himself a little, almost trying to hide behind Yami before he could be noticed.

Unfortunately, Makito quickly caught sight of him, and walked further into the room, his smile fading as he took in the long hair, which, despite all Ryou's efforts to the contrary, was pale purple and refused to fall in any way that couldn't be described as pretty. He hesitated before pulling a polite smile onto his face. "You can't be… Ryou Bakura?"

He nodded shyly, lowering his eyes to the floor. "Nice to meet you, Yosoushi-san."

"Yuugi told me you're interested in Western Culture. Magic, even," he said slowly. "You certainly do look the part, don't you?"

Ryou shifted uncomfortably, unconsciously leaning closer to Yami. "I suppose so."

"So where are the others?" Makito asked, turning to Yuugi without even bothering to acknowledge Yami. Despite Omocha's assuring him that Yami was from another culture and just didn't understand why what he did was unacceptable, Makito still didn't trust him, and so was making a point of not speaking to him more than he had to. Personally, Yami was perfectly fine with that.

"Others?" repeated Yuugi.

"Others! Your other friends!" he said brightly, and Yuugi blinked.

"Oh. Well… most of them don't actually live in Domino, and Otogi-kun's usually working… Kaiba-kun and Mokuba-kun are both overseas and don't usually spend time with us anyway, and Bakura-kun…" He trailed off, looking at Ryou for guidance, but he was still eyeing his guest slippers with a nervous expression. Yuugi frowned and looked up at his father again. "Bakura-kun is more of a night-owl."

Yami huffed out a quiet laugh, and Ryou managed a small smile, which disappeared as soon as Makito glanced at them. He hesitated, looking between Yami and Ryou, suspicious for a quick moment, then turned back to Yuugi. "So you're giving a little performance, then? Why are you in here? I thought you loved your guitar!"

"Oh… I do!" Yuugi said quickly, giving it a sudden strum. "I just um… practice in here because it's… quieter. Don't want to bother anyone, you know."

"That's fair enough. Still, you'd want to have improved a little in four years!" he said, chuckling. "You'll have to give me a show later on, what do you say?"

"Uh… yeah. Okay."

Yami and Anzu exchanged glances, well aware that aside from music class at school, Yuugi had barely played his guitar, let alone improved on it. But he just continued smiling weakly as Makito said his goodbyes to the others and left, then collapsed over his guitar when the door snapped shut.

"What are you on about, Yami?" asked Jounouchi, walking out to join them in the middle of the box-collection. "He seemed perfectly cool to me."

"Yeah. Little weird, but in this family, that's kinda a given," Honda added with a smirk. "What'd you call him? The beginning of the end of all things?"

"The catalyst to begin the fires of hell," he corrected irritably. "And he is. Isn't he, Anzu? Ryou?"

Anzu nodded, but Ryou just grimaced, looking over at Yuugi. He met his gaze from beneath his eyebrows, but didn't say anything, just went back to plucking and tightening his strings.

"Okay, so he's not exactly the dad type, but hell, I wouldn't call any of us parent material either," said Honda, waving around at them all.

"Are you deaf?" asked Anzu, her hand on her hip. "He insulted Ryou-kun!"

"He said he looks Western!" argued Jounouchi. "He was just saying he's pale!"

"You're so naïve, Jounouchi."

"Guys," murmured Yuugi, but he went ignored, Jounouchi bunching his fists aggressively as he stalked closer to Anzu.

"Who're you calling naïve? You just don't like him because he called you a tomboy."

"I don't like him because I've known him longer than you," she snapped. "I know this family better than you – Yosoushi is a jerk."

"Anzu," begged Yuugi, and Yami looked over at him in concern, but no one else even noticed.

"You saying I don't know Yuugi, now?" Jounouchi took the last few steps to stand right in front of her, using his full height to advantage and glaring down at her. "You saying I'm not good enough?"

Yuugi sighed, pushing a hand into his hair with his elbow propped on the guitar. His arm and hair effectively hid his face, and Yami stood up and walked over to him in concern.

"I'm saying you never look past the skin, Jounouchi, that's what I'm saying," snapped Anzu. "You don't listen, and you don't think! You've done this with everyone you've ever met, and it always turns out badly."

"The man's Yuugi's father, Anzu! How could he possibly be a bad guy?"

"He –!"

"Stop it, the pair of you!" Yami ordered loudly, and they both blinked, looking around at him. He set a hand on his hip, his eyes narrowed in a glare he could only have perfected by ruling a country. "If you're going to argue, at least argue about something worth listening to. Neither of you have any idea what you're talking about."

They blinked again, then lowered their eyes to the floor, properly chastised. Yami usually acted their age and was always their friend, but he had the strange ability to make even a Kaiba feel three inches tall. Anzu folded her arms over her stomach and Jounouchi scuffed his foot against the floor, both of them muttering apologies to no one in particular. Yami continued to frown for another moment, then reached down and snatched Yuugi's guitar from him, turning toward the door.

"Now come on into the lounge room," he ordered, before lowering his voice to a more natural suggestion. "It's more comfortable in there."

They all obediently followed after, settling themselves in their usual positions on the couches and footstools. Yami waited until Yuugi had sat down, then settled himself on the arm of the couch, handing him his guitar again. Yuugi smiled up at him gratefully, and set about picking out a slow tune on the strings. It was vaguely familiar, but none of them could actually recognise it.

"Would you guys be interested in meeting some of my old friends?" Ryou asked suddenly, recognising the cue to start a brand new topic.

"From your home town?" asked Honda, and he nodded.

"Mm. You know I'm going to visit my family next week, but my friends wanted to see my new home and all, so they're coming for twenty-four hours to pick me up, so I don't have to take the train on my own," he said, smiling. "Since my thief has promised my lead figures will remain inanimate objects, we were planning on having a TRPG night. Would any of you want to maybe join in?"

Anzu smiled brightly, nodding. "Sure, as long as it's not on a work night. When is it?"

"The Sunday. They'll be taking a midnight train Saturday night, and I'll be leaving Domino Monday morning. So it will probably be about five until eleven or something like that."

She frowned, trying to remember her work schedule, but Honda nodded. "I'll be there. Might just watch the game though… not a big player and all."

"I'll play!" said Jounouchi. "Can I use that character I've been using in our games? Warrior Jou – level five, man!"

"Geek," Honda muttered, grinning as Jounouchi grabbed up his shirt and began threatening.

They all laughed, the tension from the storeroom easily dissipating, but Yami continued to watch Yuugi as he struggled with the guitar, wondering at the look he had seen.

* * *

"Are you alright?"

Yuugi flinched as he spun around, but when he saw Yami leaning out of the shadows of the hallway he smiled, nodding easily as he turned back to the drinks he was pouring. "Mm. Just a little surprised. I guess my fingers are longer than they used to be. It was a lot easier to get the chords than I remembered."

"That and your scars make the fingers tougher," he said, walking over to take one of Yuugi's hands in his own and inspect it. He ran his fingers over the too-smooth palm, smiling at the shudder it caused. Yuugi's nerves had been damaged in the fire, but the sensation was still there. Yuugi sighed, and Yami stepped behind him, wrapping him up in a gentle hug and resting his cheek into Yuugi's hair.

They had spent over an hour together in the early morning, just sitting and murmuring small talk until light slid through the window. Although they had actually said very little about their situation, they had eventually come to a quiet agreement to go back to the way things usually were. They just felt too lonely as it was.

"You're very good," he said softly, and Yuugi smiled, picking up the coke bottle again.

"I started when I was five. I should be a lot better than I am," he said, but Yami shrugged.

"I'm not sure if I know how to play or not. You did play while I was in your head, but I don't think I know the chords. I suppose I should try, one of these days," he murmured. "But I had no idea what you were doing when you were stringing and tuning the guitar. You know, I'm very proud of my aibou, knowing that sort of skill. Hathor would be proud."

"Hathor…" Yuugi frowned, narrowing his eyes as he tried to remember. "What did she do again?"

"Lots of things. Dance, play music, make people look pretty. She ruled beautiful things."

"Uh huh."

He smirked, but his smile quickly faded and he tightened his grip, hunching around Yuugi protectively. "I'm sorry I didn't stop them sooner."

"What do you mean?"

"Anzu and Jounouchi. I'm sorry I let them say those things."

Yuugi didn't speak for a moment, finishing the drinks and recapping the bottle. "You've said worse."

"Yes, but I said them _to _you. Not just in front of you," he said, and Yuugi wondered if that really made much of a difference. Yami sighed, squeezing once more before he stepped away to allow Yuugi to turn around. "They really seemed to hurt you. I haven't been hurting you, have I?"

"No. It's just… This is what I was talking about before," he said, and turned to put the bottle back in the fridge. "Dad tends to cause that kind of reaction in people. Some people like him, some people don't… Mum and I just… he drives us up the wall because we love him but he's just so… _him_, you know?"

Yami nodded, leaning back against the table as he watched Yuugi move around the kitchen, collecting snack foods.

"He just causes issues," he said wearily. "He wants things we can't always give, but he's such a nice guy that it's hard to say no. I understand why you and Anzu get upset, but I grew up with this, I know how to… avoid what happened in the store room."

"You know how to Keep the Peace," surmised Yami, and Yuugi nodded, stopping in front of him with a sigh.

"We might not be able to give him what he wants, but we can show we're trying," he said quietly. "It might make waves, but at least the waves don't break. You see what I'm getting at?"

Yami frowned, not liking the situation, but nodded anyway.

"So… do you think you can maybe try it my way? I know it's not right, and I know it's hard, but… maybe…?"

"Hmm… I don't see how we can. The last three days have proved that we can't not touch each other without losing our heads. And you saw me last night, I'm not – Without you literally _there_, I'm losing control. It's one thing to know you're with me, but if I can't… The longer and further I am from you, the more I need you there; you know that."

"I know," he said, biting his lip sympathetically. For all his strength, Yami was keeping the darkness from wrecking havoc with very little more than his willpower, and it got harder to control when he was stressed. The nightmares and lack of contact with his lighter and saner half was making it difficult for Yami to stay focussed. "But… you know, I don't think we need to keep sleeping apart, at least. I'm sure if we keep the door shut…"

He frowned, folding his arms worriedly. Yuugi bit his lip, then stepped forward, his hands rising but holding back from actually touching him. "I'm still here. I promise, I'm not going anywhere, and I know we can do this. It's only two weeks, after all," he added, smiling weakly.

Yami looked at him again, then sighed and reached out to cup his raised hands in his own. "In that case… I can live behind closed doors. For you."

He smiled, swaying a little to show his gratitude. "That's my great king."

"And that's my son, is it?" interjected a new, cold voice, and they both stiffened, looking sideways to where Makito and Omocha stood in the doorway. Omocha had her hands to her face, peering through her fingers with a visible cringe, and Makito stood in front, his arms folded and a heavy look on his face.

Yuugi blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion, not understanding why Makito looked as if Yuugi had just announced he'd failed all his exams and was dropping out to become a goldfish vendor. Yami, however, mentally ran back over the last minute of conversation from an outsider's perspective and immediately dropped one of Yuugi's hands, holding the other tight in his own as he stepped in front of him, protective.

"Yami?" whispered Yuugi, but he just squeezed the captured hand in silent warning, keeping his gaze locked with Makito.

"Something wrong, Maki-tou-san?" he asked coldly, setting his free hand on his hip and leaning his torso back in lazy arrogance. "You look upset."

"Upset?" he repeated through clenched teeth. "You think I'm _upset_?"

"Anata," murmured Omocha, but he ignored her, his glare intensifying with Yami's attitude.

"Why would I be upset? Walking in on my own son organising such a happy little tryst with a strange man in my kitchen?"

Yuugi hissed in a painful breath as he caught on, but Yami just squeezed his hand again to keep him silent.

"You are making assumptions about a situation you know very little about," he said calmly. "I suggest you control yourself before you say something you will later regret."

"Oh, this coming from a boy who confesses he's 'losing control' without being able to take advantage of my son at every opportunity!" Makito cried, and Yami's teeth clenched, but he forced himself to swallow his anger.

"I would never –"

"You just admitted it!" he shouted, and Yami bowed his head, looking up from under his eyebrows as Yuugi fell against his back, almost hiding himself in the cotton.

"Yuugi? Yami?" Jounouchi called from the hallway. "What's… oh… um…"

Omocha looked over her shoulder, shaking her head, presumably to tell them not to interfere.

"Yuugi, move," snapped Makito, but Yuugi just flinched further into Yami's back. "Yuugi, step away from him. Now."

"Don't order my aibou," snarled Yami.

"Don't call him that!" he snapped back. "How dare you be so –"

"I am not 'daring' anything," he barked. "I know my place, and what I can and cannot do, but you are the one who is daring to speak as if you have any idea what's happening."

"The other me, don't!" breathed Yuugi. Yami took a deep, calming breath, stopping his shadows before they could rise to a visible level, but it was clear he was still only moments from challenging Makito to a dark game. Yuugi closed his eyes, willing some miracle to stop the scene continuing, but the tension just kept building.

"Anata, it's not what you think," whispered Omocha. "I know what it looks like, but –"

"I'm not blind, Omocha," he snapped back, then spun around to glare at her. "How could you not tell me something like this? How could you let this happen?"

"Let…? I didn't 'let' anything happen, Makito, it just did," she said coldly, all traditional pretence gone in a sudden flare of annoyance. "And by not letting us explain, you're making a fool of yourself in front of our _guests_."

He flinched, his head snapping around to look over his other shoulder, eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of Yuugi's friends clustered together in the hall. He hesitated, obviously caught between motivations, but he eventually forced that disturbingly familiar smile, the one Yami had seen Yuugi wear a hundred times. It was so fake it screamed for acceptance, but just as they did Yuugi's, Yami knew his friends would take it.

"Uh… kids, we've… we've got a little family problem here. Uhh… how about you guys head on home, and Yuugi'll call you later, alright?" he asked brightly.

There was a short pause, and both Jounouchi and Honda could be heard making small noises of protest, but Ryou cut them off. "Of course, we understand, Yosoushi-san," he said quietly. "It was nice meeting you. Thank you for your hospitality, Aunt."

"Yes, thank you," added Anzu. "We'll probably see you again. Good bye."

The sounds of a short scuffle followed, quickly cut off by the opening and closing of a door. Yuugi had crept out to stand beside Yami, and they exchanged wary glances before being forced to remeet the double gaze of Yuugi's parents. Yuugi swallowed, but then cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Dad, I think –"

"It's clear Yuugi should apologise for keeping secrets from his father," Omocha said loudly. "However, we weren't sure if you would understand. Things have been rather complicated these past two years, and the world is a different place than it was ten years ago, Makito. The boys thought it would be easier to simply lie than tell you the truth. But obviously that isn't going to work."

Yuugi looked up at Yami, who just narrowed his eyes, silently agreeing they should stay silent until she was finished.

"What I'm going to tell you is going to be very hard to accept, Makito, but you have to. You have to listen to the whole story. And please, just try and understand our position."


	5. Pillar of Strength

_**Pillar of Strength**_

**DISCLAIMER**: I would like to take this moment to apologise. Profusely. On bended knee and with jugular exposed. For those reading this story in one fell swoop, feel free to skip this chapter, for it is fluff. Sugary fluff. Mills and Boon sugary fluff. Mills and Boon would call this chapter too bad for their teeth and send me a rejection letter. For those of you reading this as it comes out… I'm very sorry. It's a matter of plot advancement.

* * *

He just couldn't help it.

It was pathetic, and childish, and he knew he shouldn't have been upset about it. It was the logical course of action – aside from the truth, of course. Yet, really, there was nothing else he could do.

Yuugi Mutou, the chosen one, fated to do the impossible, he who had stared down Kaiba, wrested control from his other self, saved lives, fought off a gigantic yellow eye _and_ a cyclone with nothing more than a card, and survived multiple whackings from his mother's ladle at least three times a month; Yuugi Mutou thought over the last half hour…

And began twitching.

Badly.

* * *

"The truth is, Makito, that Yami isn't just a friend. He never was.

"Yuugi met Yami a little more than a year ago now, but really, it started long before that. It really started when Yuugi met his friend Jounouchi. At first, Jounouchi and Yuugi didn't get along, but when they did, they were almost instantly close – okay, maybe – Yami, the point is that before the end of the summer holidays, they were best friends. Alright? Alright.

"Jounouchi has a little sister, and… well, she'd had problems with her eyes since the day she was born. The only way to fix them was very expensive surgery, and even without the doctor's bills from the first fourteen years of her life, that was worth over a hundred million, just to get the doctor here and to do the surgery. When Yuugi found out, he was determined to help, so when he found out about a card tournament with a prize of three million American _dollars_, well, it was just too good to refuse.

"You remember me telling you about that, don't you? When Papa fell into that coma, and then Yuugi just disappeared for four days? Well, it turns out he had been planning this tournament for so long, the reason he disappeared was because he simply didn't have a choice. Pegasus can be rather… Persuasive was the word I was looking for, Yami, but that works too.

"Yuugi met Yami during that tournament. They had known about each other for a while—gaming being what it is—but they had never met. Yami had been in it for the challenge, but as soon as he discovered Yuugi and Jounouchi's reason for being there, he immediately decided to help them. In the end, he and Yuugi ended up tag teaming against Pegasus – he's a bit of a cheater, from what I've heard, and their fair play wasn't enough to defeat his tricks until they worked together. But they won, and gave Jounouchi the money. Yuugi came back home, and Yami did as well.

"Ah, well, you see, Yami is _originally _from Egypt, but a very different part than we regularly assume of Egypt. He's a very modern individual. A professional gamer. Has been since before he can remember. But he's always been alone, as well. It's really very sweet to hear the story from Anzu-chan – she tells it just like a fairy-tale… but maybe that's for some other time… Anyway, the point is, that after spending time with Yuugi during Duellist Kingdom, Yami had become rather attached to the group, purely due to Yuugi's offer of friendship. By the time they left, Yami trusted Yuugi with his cards, which was more than his life – hence, the term 'aibou'.

"They didn't meet again for several months, before Kaiba-san held that Battle City tournament. Of course, since Yami was on his own and Yuugi was just supporting the other players, they ended up spending a great deal of time walking around the city together. Again, it's really a very sweet story, such a close bond forming over something so simple as a card game… but in the end, it was for nothing. Yami grew very fond and attached to Yuugi, but that was all they had time for. After a long, drawn out farewell, Yami turned away and went home, his mind full of wishes and dreams, but the steadfast denial to quash them. Yuugi was young, impressionable, straight! He couldn't!

"But then, there was America. Pegasus had arranged a publicity stunt, and all but forced Yuugi and his friends to come along. Luckily, Yami had been coerced as well, and so they spent the semester break in America, together. Yuugi, well… the truth is: Yami, no matter how honourable his intentions after Battle City, with Yuugi so impressionable and innocent, found it easy to ask him out to dinners, coffee, movies… and because Yuugi's English could be better, it was an excellent reason for Yami to insist he stay close by. Before the second week was over, Yami had quite simply seduced Yuugi, and that was that.

"But then, Yami, ashamed at what he had done, convinced himself it was just another conquest and left America and Yuugi without so much as a note. Yuugi was, naturally, heartbroken. He came back home, so crushed, so withdrawn; it almost makes me cry to remember it. I can still remember it now… he came back from the airport, dragging his suitcase behind him, tears streaming down his cheeks… he wouldn't speak, he wouldn't eat… he wouldn't even play games, because they reminded him of Yami.

"But then, one dark, dismal, thundering night, the clock struck ten and not five minutes later there was a pounding at the back door. Yuugi, thinking it was Jounouchi, went to open it, and Papa and I were waiting behind, in case Jounouchi needed help – he sometimes gets hurt, the poor boy. But no. With the lightning, all we could see was a dripping figure, before it suddenly rushed in and grabbed Yuugi up! At first I was shocked, I thought it was a burglar, but no! The figure, still wearing his shoes, had Yuugi crushed against the wall in the most soul-searing kiss, ah! It makes my heart flutter to remember it!

"Yami was soaking wet, his flight ticket still clutched in his hand – he had just been taken by the urge to be with Yuugi and had just booked the first flight and had run all the way from the airport! It was so romantic! He told Yuugi he had been wrong, that he really did love him, that he was sorry and please oh please wouldn't Yuugi come back to Egypt with him – stopping by Holland to get married or something first, of course.

"Eventually, Yuugi agreed to go with Yami on break, see if he could forgive him for ruining his life. But then, a week into the winter holidays, I get a phone call informing me Yuugi was quite happy with Yami and going to live with him forever. Of course, I nearly had a heart attack, and demanded Yuugi return, which he did, but with Yami in tow. They simply refuse to be separated. Of course, I don't approve, but honestly, what you rather I do? Throw Yami out and have them really elope to Holland? I'd rather keep them here where I can wait for Yuugi to grow out of the rebellious phase, thank you all the same. It's quite possibly just a phase that will tide itself over in the meantime, but for now… for now, it's true love.

"Yami? Yuugi? You've both been quiet, don't you have anything to add?"

* * *

Anzu, Jounouchi and Honda all stared for two seconds, and then, in a unison bordering on the robotic, blinked.

Yami sighed, lifting his hands and closing his eyes in a regal shrug. "That's what she told him."

"And he believed it?" Jounouchi asked, his jaw slack in apparent awe of this family's inhuman acceptance.

"If his screaming for both aibou and myself to get out before he made us were any indication…" he said quietly, glancing over his shoulder as if casually concerned Makito would appear in the doorway with a roaring chainsaw. "I'd say he very much believed it."

"Well, you gotta admit, it is kinda more realistic than the truth," said Honda, glancing at the others. Anzu was still staring at Yami blankly, but Jounouchi looked at him curiously. He shrugged one shoulder, tilting his head back down at Yami. "An ancient pharaoh locked in a hunk of gold and rescued by the other half of his soul, or a man in makeup and leather seducing a young, innocent virgin? Honestly, which one would you believe?"

"Innocent?" Jounouchi repeated quietly, but shut his mouth when Yami gave him a sharp look.

"Okay, okay, wait," said Anzu, waving her hands suddenly as if holding off a million questions. "That story you just told us… with the heart broken Yuugi and the romantic getaway and the run through the rain… that's the story Aunt Omocha told Yosoushi-san?"

He confirmed with a quick nod of his head. "Almost word for word."

"But… but it… it's just so bad!" she said weakly, blinking again. "I think I've read _doujinshi _with better story lines!"

Honda gave her a sidelong look that only those who read manga and bought doujinshi would understand, because she blushed while Jounouchi and Yami exchanged confused glances.

"It's just… so bad! Your relationship – and then – and you –" she spluttered, waving her hands. "Why didn't you stop her?"

Yami frowned, shifting his weight almost imperceptibly and eyeing a place on the wall over Jounouchi's shoulder. "Aibou didn't seem upset."

Anzu closed her mouth, staring at him for several moments before turning away, her brow furrowed in thought.

"So?" Jounouchi prompted. "How'd the old man take it?"

"Yososhii or Grandfather Sugoroku?" Yami asked, smirking. "Grandfather Sugoroku find it all amusing. He spent almost an hour last night asking me if it were true."

"Yosoushi-san," clarified Honda, even as they all snickered at the image.

"Yes, well… he's not quite so complacent," he said, his smile fading with a sigh. He took his hand from his pocket to fold his arms, the only sign of nerves they had ever managed to pick up on. "I think the Set Animal managed to convince him not to do anything, but the house is not quite so… comfortable as it once was. The only thing any of the three have said to one another is when Yososhii told Yuugi they should go and see a movie together. I heard him tell Yuugi what the movie was – his plan is easy enough to see through."

"Plan?"

"Well, he thinks it's just a phase, or that I'm just magically convincing aibou that he's gay," Yami continued, raising his eyebrows in quiet amusement. "He believes that if he goes about subtly pointing out my flaws, then eventually aibou will click his fingers and go 'ah, you're right – I don't like him anymore!'. While aibou is coming to terms with that, Yososhii will talk about how he used to be so obsessed with girls' bodies at aibou's age, and take him to see movies that include women in very small costumes."

"Two problems with that," said Jounouchi, holding up his middle and index finger. "One, Yuugi forgave you losing his soul—"

"And all the stuff that happened before you guys met properly," added Honda, while Yami shifted again at the Doma reminder. "I think death and insanity trump the whole drinking milk from the carton thing."

"—two, he grew up with this," continued Jounouchi, taking Anzu's hand to spin her around and show her off. She squawked at the treatment, but the point was made as she had to lean back on Jounouchi's arm for balance and her ample curves were given full view. "I don't think the stick-figures they have in movies are going to do much that she can't."

"Jounouchi!" she shrieked, shoving herself upright and folding her arms around herself. "You pervert!"

He got a painful fist to the head, but the other two ignored it, Yami frowning as he nodded. "I know that, but right now, he's just a minor irritation. I'm more worried about aibou."

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Set Animal's story was accepted just that little bit too easily," he said quietly. "I think he's worried, because his father was always so insistent he become a 'man's man', that this might mean Maki-tou-san might –"

"Give up on him?" offered Anzu, and Yami nodded.

"He hasn't though," Honda pointed out. "The movie thing proves it."

"Yes, but it's also convincing aibou that he's not 'right'," he added. "Yososhii is treating this like a disease that I've infected him with."

"Should we go talk to him?" asked Jounouchi. "Yuugi, I mean? Make sure he knows we're here for him and all?"

"No, I don't think so. I think should figure his own feelings out before he tries to talk to anyone else about it," he said, but smiled gratefully. "I'll tell him you came by though."

"Call us if he wants to talk, okay?"

"I will."

* * *

The room was dark as he slowly opened the door, quietly knocking against the wood as he poked his head around the door. It didn't mean anything – he would go in regardless of Yuugi's reaction to the knock, but as his aibou, Yuugi deserved the forewarning, if nothing else.

As expected, Yuugi didn't react to the knock, his eyes merely rising up to watch as Yami slid into the room and crossed to stand in front of him. Yuugi was in the same position he had been since breakfast: curled into one of his almost trademark balls, his knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them; perched beside his pillows and silent.

"Our friends came by," Yami said quietly. "They're worried about you."

A slight crinkling around Yuugi's eyes was the only hint he got of a smile. "They are, huh?"

Yami smirked, proud enough to admit when he was caught out, and sat down beside him, elbows on his knees. They sat silently for a moment, considering, before Yami sighed loudly, bending over so his hair slid forward to hide his face. "Aibou… I know what I said yesterday, but… if you can't do this… If you can't live with your father thinking this, I can leave. I'll… I'll stay with our friends, or challenge Kaiba to a duel with a week at Hotel Kaiba as the stakes," he said, his humour coming off horribly fake even to his own ears. "I… I don't have to live with you."

"No, you don't," Yuugi agreed softly, and Yami's fists clenched between his knees. They fell silent for another moment, before Yuugi lifted his head to visibly smile at him, though Yami was still eyeing the floor. "But I'd be very upset if you didn't."

He closed his eyes, a relieved smile spreading over his lips for a moment before he managed to hide it and look up. It had been a bluff, really – he had no idea what he would do if Yuugi made him leave.

"But are you really sure you want to stay?" continued Yuugi, and Yami's mask fell for an instant in surprise.

"What?"

"This… story of Mum's," he said quietly. "It's an interesting one."

"It is that…" he agreed, looking away again. "I'm quite the dramatic anti-hero, apparently."

"Yeah, but you were always that," Yuugi murmured, and Yami smiled before turning back to him. Yuugi didn't meet his gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But you know what it's saying we are. You know what she's made you."

"Yeah…"

Yuugi's eyes narrowed again, his chin lowering back behind his knees. "It's what everyone thinks of us, isn't it? It's what people think we really are," he whispered, and Yami grimaced, leaning back on his hand.

"Yeah… Ever since Egypt, actually."

Yuugi was quiet a moment, his shoulders hunching to hide the few parts of his face not hidden by hair or arms. "I knew about the jokes… but I never thought they were serious. I never thought people really thought we were –"

"You have to see it from their point of view, aibou. The same bed, the same personal space… we share everything from money to chopsticks," he said, inwardly sighing as he realised his rejection was coming out in a much less dramatic way than he had ever envisioned. It was somehow more painful than a direct 'no'. "You have to know that doesn't look normal to them."

"Yeah, but we shared a body," he insisted. "They know it's not – It isn't, is it?"

Yami shook his head. "I know it wasn't the same as they think," he murmured, and Yuugi recoiled from his own limbs, his eyes narrowing into slits of self disgust as he hunched even further in on himself..

"They all think I'm a little girl," he whispered. "A weak, pathetic little girl with no mind of her own."

He raised his head a little, brow furrowing. "What?"

"My own mother thinks I'm…" Yami couldn't see even part of his face anymore, and his voice was muffled as he swore. "Fuck…"

"Aibou…" Yami blinked a few times, then pushed himself up enough to shift his knee around Yuugi's back, wrapping careful arms around him. "Aibou, what are you talking about?"

"It's what they all think!" he cried helplessly, letting go of his legs to bury his fists in his hair. "It's not just that you and I are – They think you – That I didn't even put up a fight and you're…! My own mother doesn't think I'm strong enough to say a damn 'no'."

Yami continued to stare at him, completely floored by what Yuugi was really upset about. "You… what?"

"The story, the other me; the story!" he cried, his legs falling over Yami's thigh as he burst out of his huddle in desperation, hands flailing out. "While we were in America, you didn't just seduce me into a romantic weekend, you damn well _used _me, and all I could say at the end of it was 'boohoo my one true love has left me'!" he said, his eyes wide in depressed anger. "My own mother thinks I am nothing but a pathetic little girl with no…! I… Am I really that –?"

Yami continued to stare at him, then laughed out a weak breath, shaking his head. "Aibou! You're not pathetic! You're amazing!"

"Oh, like I'm going to listen to you. You're just trying to get into my pants."

Yami snorted despite himself, and Yuugi scowled at him. "I'm serious, the other me. Everyone thinks I'm this little doll that needs protecting, that – that I can't think for myself, or fight, or… And I can't!" he cried, throwing his hands up with a weak shout. "Hell… Maybe they're right, I mean… when have I ever been any use to anyone?"

"Aibou," he said, smiling out his exasperation. His aibou could be absolutely ridiculous, at times. "I wouldn't be here if not for you. Kaiba wouldn't be alive right now! I wouldn't have won Duellist Kingdom, or even made it past the second Rare Hunter if not for your support. In Noah's World, you were the one to trust in Kuribou and help me win the first duel, and without you I never would have made it through the duel with Noah. And then Doma…"

Yuugi glanced at him, caught between irritation and curiosity as Yami smiled at him.

"In the Memory RPG," he added quietly, taking Yuugi's chin to face him. "I would have lost long before I even knew I was playing if not for you, in that game."

He furrowed his brow, hunching his shoulders reluctantly, and Yami gave him a look.

"That's just the life and death matters. Do you really have no idea how important you are in everyday life? What you mean to Jounouchi and the others? What you mean to me?" he whispered, and then reached up, brushing a trail of tears from Yuugi's cheek. "No one thinks you're a pathetic little doll, aibou. Yes, we all want to protect you, but that's because we need you. Because if we lose you—what you are, what you mean to us—none of us will make it through. You may not have any strength in these arms, aibou, but there's enough strength in that heart to move mountains – worlds, even. It's enough to keep us all standing, and that's too precious for us to risk."

Yuugi blushed, trying to duck his head away from the intense gaze, but Yami held him steady, his smile warm as he nodded.

Yuugi hesitated again, then winced. "Even so, Mum still thinks –"

"Oh, no, see, that story is just what we _told _he_r_," he said, nodding meaningfully. "If you want to know the truth—that truth that we just kept between us because it makes _me _feel like a girl—is that _you _were the one to seduce _me_."

Yuugi stared at him, and he smirked, winking as he shrugged.

"It was the eyes. And the leather, but more the eyes. I just kept falling harder and harder until eventually I couldn't control myself. And then you up and left me, and I was just… so heartbroken," he said melodramatically, and Yuugi laughed, turning away in amused frustration. Yami grinned, wrapping his arms further around Yuugi's waist in a playful squeeze. "You just kept running away from me, so I _had _to sweep you off to Egypt and convince you I was worth more than that one night stand, because my friends were all getting really sick of my moping around without you."

Yuugi continued giggling, and Yami smirked again before rolling them down so he could lean over Yuugi, lying back against the pillows. They just smiled at each other for a moment, Yuugi's hand reaching up to toy with Yami's forelocks in a soft, grateful movement. Yami's smile faded as he placed his hand over Yuugi's heart.

"We know how this works, aibou; you and me," he said quietly. "It would be exactly the same in any other story. I may be powerful, but that's only because you're behind me. Even before you kept me solid, you kept me sane. You kept me safe. You're my pillar of strength, aibou, I can't do much without you."

"The other me…" he whispered, staring at him. Yami just gazed back at him seriously, and he smiled, pulling him down into his arms. "I'll always be here for you, I promise."

"Yeah, I know," he whispered back, holding him back just as tightly.

In reality, Yuugi would probably never give him everything he wanted. But Yami knew full well that he gave him much more than he deserved.

He would always be there.

Yami could defeat anything – monsters, evil gods, Kaiba and his own ego, as long as Yuugi was with him. And he would do anything to keep him there.

He just prayed this didn't mess it all up in the meantime.


	6. Playing House

_**Playing House**_

**DISCLAIMER**: According to my wacky-do humungous dictionary, to 'Play House' is to pretend to be a family within its home. It wasn't what I really intended for this chapter, but hey, whaddaya gonna do?

* * *

It was a confusing phenomenon, as far as Yami was concerned.

Yuugi absolutely refused to play Duel Monsters with him, so Yami had to resort to lesser challenges if he wanted to give his deck a workout. Jounouchi was always prepared, which, considering how variable his gambling style was, was good because Yami never knew exactly what to expect. But sometimes, like today, Jounouchi was unavailable, which left Yami to either go out and hope for Kaiba or challenge Sugoroku.

Sugoroku was a good player—nowhere near Yuugi, of course, but still good—but he barely ever left the game store. So if Yami wanted to play, he usually had to play with a group of aspiring duelists staring over his shoulder.

He couldn't understand why they liked to watch him when they had so much trouble following the complex strategies he and Sugoroku worked with. In tournaments he could understand – some people just liked to watch solid visions kill each other. But playing with cards—barely comprehensible unless you knew them well—just shouldn't have been entertaining to ordinary school children.

But today Yami didn't have much of a choice. He was frustrated with Yuugi right now, and anyway, Yuugi was going out with Jounouchi and Honda to see a movie about soccer or something. Anzu was at a dance rehearsal, and because Yuugi was angry with him, he had taken his money and key card out of Yami's reach. Meaning Yami was stuck at home.

"If he would just tell me," Yami muttered, as he looked over his cards. He needed the Swords of Revealing Light, but using his powers in a casual game against Sugoroku was probably unfair. He sighed and drew the next one, scowling at the Queen's Knight.

"If you want to know something, you should ask," commented Sugoroku. "But you two have been fighting all morning. You barely ever do this – what happened?"

Yami grimaced, summoning Queen's Knight and laying two facedown cards on the field. "He's not telling me something. And it's personal, so he knows I should know and yet he still refuses to tell me. Turn over."

"You don't need to know _everything _about him. What do you want to know this time?" asked Sugoroku, drawing and playing his cards without any announcement. Yami narrowed his eyes, wondering if he should take the bait Sugoroku refused and just attack. Yami had two more facedown cards than Sugoroku, but that didn't necessarily mean he could beat him. But then, it was an opportunity and he had never been one to shy from a challenge.

"My turn, draw, Queen's Knight, Gamma, Beta, attack the Giant Soldiers of Stone," he ordered, and looked up at Sugoroku in time to see him nod and flip two cards. They exchanged magic, the kids around them gasping in excitement and awe, but Yami finally managed to destroy two of the three giant soldiers. Unfortunately, one of Sugoroku's traps had multiplied them, so there were still four left.

"You didn't answer my question," said Sugoroku, frowning at the dip in his life points. Yami looked up again to answer, but before he could even open his mouth, Yuugi himself had jumped down the steps from the entrance hall. He blinked at the crowd, then noticed the duel and grinned at the kids, several of whom eyed him in open confusion. His colouring was a lot more like the Duel Monsters champion Yuugi Mutou… and a few of the publicity posters had him on there, but there was something about the dark guy that seemed a lot more like the duelist they knew and worshipped.

For his part, Yami just kept his gaze steadily focussed on Sugoroku. "Yuugi _Mutou_," he said, struggling to ignore Yuugi ignoring him. "Why is that?"

"Honestly," muttered Yuugi, before waving to his grandfather. "I'm leaving!"

"Take care," he called over the kids as Yuugi slipped out the door. He drew another card, looking at it thoughtfully as he said, "It's not really something you need to know. And, as I've been told a dozen times by all members of the family, it's not my place to tell you. Sorry."

Yami glared at him, his anger denying any constraint as he quickly finished the duel. Sugoroku sighed and shrugged, but Yami stood up to leave before the crowd of amazed children could break out of their shock and start clamoring for booster packs and rare cards.

It was as if the entire world—or at least the karma of the game shop—was conspiring against him. He shoved off his boots and scowled at everything as he headed into the kitchen.

Yuugi was still having his dreams, too. The same dream, by the sound of it. If he weren't s preoccupied with Yuugi's family name, Yami knew he would have suggested they use the tauk and see if the dreams were important, but with Yuugi refusing to tell him anything, irrationality argued he would be just as quiet about the future.

Yami yanked open the fridge, reaching past the stashes of chocolate and sweets to grab one of the beer bottles that had been rapidly decreasing of late. While a six-pack usually lasted them a week, Yami had bought an entire carton over the last four days. He wondered if certain bastard fathers drank, or whether he was just the cause of more drinking on Sugoroku's part.

"Little young for that, aren't you?"

Speak of the devil. Yami scowled, not bothering to turn around as he cracked open his bottle. He kicked the fridge closed and took a pointed swig before looking over his shoulder.

"I was wondering who the expensive alcoholic was," Makito continued, leaning on the doorframe. "Grandfather was always just content with the cheapest swill, but you, I see, have taste. I wonder if you'll be able to afford it when you stop using others to pay your way."

No matter how angry Yuugi was now, he would be much worse if Yami cracked his bottle over Makito's head. He took a breath, repeating this to himself as he turned around to meet Makito face-on.

"It isn't going to last, you know," Makito said lowly. "He'll grow up, eventually. He'll realise how you're using him."

Yami smirked, spreading his hands and closing his eyes with imperious dignity. "Who knows? With all you've done, I'll be surprised if aibou ever learns when people need to leave him alone."

"He's my son. I won't let you hurt him."

"No. Only fathers get that privilege, don't they?" he murmured, raising his bottle to drink. "Except they call physical actions abuse, these days, so you have to be careful and mentally scar your children instead."

Makito visibly bit back a retort to that, and Yami hid his smirk behind the bottle. When he lowered it again, Makito was wearing the usual broad smile that could so easily pass for Yuugi's fake grin. "So, tell me. How long have you been drinking?" he asked. "I'm afraid I didn't catch how old you are."

"Old enough," he replied calmly. "Even have the false documents to prove it."

"Oh, now _that _doesn't surprise me." His smile broadened as his eyes narrowed, and Yami glanced at the door. He couldn't get out without brushing against Makito, but no one seemed to be coming and he was getting irritated. Makito didn't move, just looked him up and down in open appraisal. "Exactly how much older than my son are you, Yami?"

"Why do you want to know?" he asked, smirking.

He didn't answer at first, shifting his shoulders and glancing him over once again. "Curious. Father-in-law's prerogative, you know. And that is what you consider me, isn't it, Yami? I'm practically your father-in-law, aren't I?"

"Hm," he said vaguely, casually swinging his bottle from his fingertips. "True. You would be, if I considered you any kind of father."

"Oh, now… Do you know what the age of consent is, Yami?" he asked coldly, and Yami raised an eyebrow, frowning slightly.

"The what?"

"The age of consent," he repeated. "The age a child can legally agree to have sexual relations."

"_Legally _agree to have sex?" He scoffed, but his smirk slipped as Makito's smile softened into a very real, dark smile.

"You'd be amazed at what you can be arrested for," he said quietly, and Yami pulled back, cautious. Makito couldn't be serious. The very idea of a law applying to consensual sex was laughable. Not that he had ever had reason to worry about it, of course, but Omocha had implied that he and Yuugi had a very physical relationship. And there was no way to prove they didn't, as far as Yami knew. So if Makito was telling the truth, then he was being threatened, and he didn't know what it would mean.

"I would never force aibou to do anything," he said firmly.

"It's not about force – it's about age. And besides, I'm not suggesting anything," he said innocently, tilting his head. "I'm just making a comment. You should probably be aware of it."

"And now I am." He stepped around the back of the table, taking the long way toward the door. "Is that all?"

He spread his hands, standing up straight to allow Yami past. "My wife seems to think you might be around for a few years yet. She thinks I should get to know you, since you're such a large part of my son's life," he said, as Yami passed, still watching him warily. "But I don't think that's really necessary, do you? We don't need to know each other that well."

Yami stopped at that, setting a hand on his hip and looking up at the ceiling. He knew full well that eventually, he and Makito would have to learn to coexist, and that Yuugi would be much happier if they could do that sooner, rather than later. But when he came out with insinuations like that, it was just so hard not to snap back something Yuugi would regret.

In the end, he just turned around, forcing his most charming smile as he asked, "Could you tell me something, Maki-tou-san? Why is it that '_your son _Yuugi' is a Mutou?" he asked, his speech patterns as patronisingly polite as he could manage. "You being a Yosoushi, and such a truly traditional head of the household, should your only son not be called Yosoushi as well?"

Makito just gazed back at him quietly for a moment, his smile small and fierce. Neither spoke for several seconds, until Makito stepped out into the hall, his hands folded behind his back. "That, Yami, is something only members of the family should know. Grandfather, my parents, Anzu-chan… People we can really call family. You understand," he said, then turned his back on Yami and walked off down the hallway without ever looking back.

* * *

"Was that really necessary?"

Makito smiled as he stepped into the laundry. Omocha was hauling wet sheets from the washing machine up into the dryer, but she stopped long enough to frown at him as he leaned against the sink.

"You heard that, did you?"

"Every last word. These walls aren't very thick, you know," she added, reaching back to tap the wall behind her. "Threatening him with legal fine print was going a bit far, don't you think?"

"Not really. If he thinks he can use my son as a toy, he has another thing coming," he said firmly. "Besides, if he wasn't prepared for the consequences, he shouldn't have started this."

She stiffened at that, but forced herself to relax again by refocusing on the sheets. "As I told you, they weren't thinking long term, when all this started. It just happened that way. You do know that sometimes today extends until tomorrow, anata."

"This isn't the same, Omoko."

"I really think it is," she snapped back, but caught herself as she turned to meet his gaze, and quickly lowered her head again. "Ah… sorry, I mean… We have to be understanding. They're still young and learning how the world works."

"Exactly," he agreed calmly. "And with that being said, I think it's even more important that we exert our influence now. That boy thinks he rules the world and our son, and I think it's high time we showed both him and Yuugi that we matter more than some foreign brat!"

"But Yami –"

"Omocha, _you _are the adult here! The _only _adult in this house when I'm not home. You need to exert your influence over that brat or who knows what he'll fill Yuugi's head with?"

"I really think it's a bit late for that," she muttered, closing the drier door. "But really, anata, you have to remember how difficult this is for me. Yami could choose to leave, and with how devoted they are to one another, Yuugi would probably –"

"That's the problem! You let him get so attached!" he cried, straightening up in irritation. "Yuugi doesn't have the maturity to make his own decisions, Omocha! You were supposed to be watching out for him! You were supposed to bring him up right!"

"He's not a child, Makito…"

"Oh, you see with such mother's eyes!" he cried angrily. "He's a little boy!"

"He's done more than any seventeen year old ever should," she murmured, her hands falling from the controls of the drier to fist on top of the washing machine.

"No, Omocha, it's that he hasn't done nearly enough," he corrected. "That's why this Yami character found it so easy to use him. He didn't experiment, grow up, play and talk with boys his own age, and then _he _comes along and cuts it all off."

She glared at the wall behind the machines, keeping carefully silent. On one level, she knew Makito was right. But she knew the full story, and how much Yuugi had grown in the last two years. She knew the man he was becoming on his own; how special he already was.

"I don't mean to accuse you, Omoko, but this all could have been avoided if you had just pushed Yuugi to grow up a little faster," he said, sighing out his anger. "If he had just become the man he could have been, instead of this clone of your— But that's all moot now, isn't it? He's on the path he's on and there's nothing we can do."

She didn't answer at first, keeping her expression carefully blank as her throat worked against the urge to forget propriety and start accusing Makito of everything he deserved. Instead she swallowed, and licked her lips as she turned to face him. "Makito. We did the best we could, given the circumstances," she said quietly. "If we failed to raise our son right, then it is clear those circumstances were not ideal. Maybe it did for you, but time never stopped for me to catch up with it."

He paused, catching the underlying accusation and meeting her gaze with a warning look. "What are you implying, Omocha?" he asked lowly, and she folded her hands in front of her skirt, straightening her shoulders determinedly.

"Times have changed," she said firmly, before her blank expression broke and a small sliver of pleading slipped into her eyes. "But if there is one thing I always realise when you come home, it's that you, Makito, have not. And I really wonder if you ever will."

He stared at her, his brow furrowing. "What are you trying to say, Omocha?"

"Don't threaten the boys anymore," she said firmly, then lowered her gaze to the floor. "I just can't let – I won't stand – I won't –"

Makito's eyes narrowed, his head tilted warily. "Omocha…?"

"I – I'm going to make some tea," she whispered, and pushed quickly past, leaving him alone and frowning at the washing machine.

* * *

Yami scowled, looking over his kings with a low growl.

His luck had run out around the same time he started seriously contemplating asking Makito to play a game. Yuugi would have had a fit if he did, so he knew he needed to control himself. Unfortunately, that seemed to be suppressing his ability to play spider solitaire.

"Yami?"

He didn't look up from the cards spread on the coffee table in front of him. He was playing in the lounge room, yes, but that didn't mean he had to pay attention to anyone that entered it. Unfortunately, this had the added side effect that he couldn't glare at Omocha as she walked in and sat down beside his game.

"Yami, I need to talk to you."

"Aibou isn't home," he said shortly. They never talked unless Yuugi was around to moderate.

"I know, and that's why I need to talk to you now," she insisted, but it wasn't until she sighed and reached over to move a three that had been staring him in the face for the past minute that he looked up at her.

"What?"

"I need to talk to you," she repeated quietly. "I don't know why Yuugi won't, but I have an idea. So if you want to know, you need to listen to me, instead."

He frowned, turning back to his game. "What do I want to know?"

"Why Yuugi's a Mutou."

His hand overshot the card he was reaching for, and he pulled his fingers back into his palm in quiet shame, but still didn't look at her. She crossed her legs, tapping her ladle against her shoulder impatiently.

"Will you listen, then?"

He didn't answer, just continued with his game. She took that as an invitation to continue and slapped her ladle into her hand.

"You've probably realised that Mama and Papa had me very late in life – they were both over forty, and so didn't really have the energy to keep up with me when I was growing up. They weren't very attentive when I was older, either, because Papa went back to gaming pretty quickly and Mama was… My mother was smart, yes, but she wasn't really… She was a little vague in the head," she said finally, then tsked at Yami's smirk. "But, you know how it goes… I couldn't really grasp that they were older, that they had more important things to worry about… I wanted attention. So I did what every teenage girl in the seventies did when she wanted her parents' attention. I went out with boys."

Yami looked up from under his eyebrows, completely unimpressed with the story so far. She returned the look with a curled lip, and he lowered his eyes again, the picture of disinterest. She sighed again. "I looked ridiculous, in those days. Miniskirts, tie-dye, make-up… I grew my hair so long it hung completely flat, and I never had the decency to tie it up. Every day, I had detention. And every night, I would go out with one of the boys I had detention with and usually do some very unladylike things," she said daintily, then made a face when Yami looked at her again.

"Unladylike things?" he repeated, and she grimaced.

"This was the seventies, Yami… things were different back then…"

"Such as…?"

"Well… well, for instance, I lost my virginity at sixteen," she said, but Yami just continued watching her expectantly. She stared at him, spreading her hands, but he just raised an eyebrow, and she threw her hands up. "At sixteen, Yami! A young girl in Kyoto in the seventies, losing her virginity to someone she barely knew! It was disgusting!"

"I'll take your word for it," he said dryly, looking back down at his game.

"How Yuugi puts up with you," she muttered, slapping her ladle against her shoulder to keep herself from hitting him with it instead. "The point is that by the time I finished high school, I was in a terrible place. I was drinking, I had done drugs, I was with a new boy every month… Mama was terrified I had thrown my life away and wouldn't get into university."

"But for the sake of you getting this over with quickly, I'm going to assume you did," Yami said shortly, as he slapped an ace on the run he had just completed and pulled it from the game.

"A private school, but yes," she said, frowning at him. "Don't you have any patience for a story?"

"From opponents that I will later take great pleasure in defeating," he said, not bothering to meet her gaze as he moved another run of cards. "You, however, I have to put up with for the rest of your life. So no, I don't."

Her grip on her ladle tightened dangerously, but she managed to keep it in check, and continued. "I met Makito while I was in first year, and we didn't like each other much. While I was wild and uncontrollable, he was a very traditional, responsible student. He –" She cut off when he gave her an irritated look, but just rolled her eyes. "We tried to avoid each other, but somehow we just kept meeting. And then, in second year, there was a party and we both got a little… intoxicated."

"I think Anzu made me sit through this movie once," he murmured thoughtfully, and Omocha winced. "Shall I assume aibou was the product of your intoxication?"

She nodded, scratching her eyebrow with the rim of her ladle. "Not that I knew it at the time. I actually spent most of the following morning yelling at Makito for using me and threatening him with a fry pan…"

"Humble beginnings."

"What was that?" she demanded, brandishing her ladle, but he just looked up at her with a smirk, and she blushed, lowering the weapon. "Anyway… I didn't repeat the… experience with anyone for almost a month after. I was a little preoccupied, thinking about that night… and then I went to the doctor for stomach sickness and realised why!"

"So you had the bastard marry you and you lived happily ever after," he said blandly. "That doesn't tell me anything."

"Actually, when I went to Makito and told him, he was… rather unsupportive," she said, biting her lip. "I think it scared him, the idea of being a father. We were only nineteen, after all – most people our age were barely thinking about long term dating, let alone families! He, essentially, told me that since I was the more experienced, it should have been my responsibility to take care of the protection and that it was now my responsibility to take care of the results."

Yami frowned, looking up at her again, and she smiled back, shrugging philosophically. "It was the eighties by this point. The sexual revolution was formed, and a lot of scared young men were taking advantage of it. If women could make their own decisions, then they should take responsibility."

"What about honour and male responsibility?" he asked. "I thought that was what you people were all about."

"I'll ignore the 'you people'," she said, glancing at him sideways before continuing. "And it was. Is. But we were young and very stupid. And this conversation happened within a matter of five minutes, so I hadn't really given Makito time to recover. Then I ran home to Mama and Papa, who had, by that point, moved here to Domino. No one knew where I'd gone and I was trying to cut myself off from everyone. Having a baby on your own is terrifying, and back then it was absolutely scandalous. So I was hiding, and so by the time Makito recovered and thought about it, he couldn't find me."

Yami looked her over thoughtfully, his eyebrows rising as he pieced the rest of the story together through assumption, then grimaced with as much sympathy as he could manage and turned back to his game. Omocha, however, was now fingering her ladle, smiling fondly at the memory.

"I was eight months pregnant when he finally tracked me down. He apologised and asked me to marry him, but by that point I'd decided I would raise my baby without a husband, and said no. He didn't like that, but after I'd hit him with my mother's serving spoon he agreed it was my decision. He still wanted to be part of the baby's life, though, and wanted to take me to dinner so we could discuss it. Oh, how I tried to hate him that night… I tried everything I could to make him hate me too, but he was just so charming and kind and sweet… Before I knew it, I was having a wonderful date and admiring the gold flecks in his eyes… He used to wear larger glasses, with thinner frames, and you could see his eyes. They were so beautiful… He was so handsome…

"I had Yuugi, and named him in the Mutou family tradition. Makito fell right over when I told him, but as I said, he wasn't my husband, he had no say in what I named my child. Mama and Papa didn't like that either, but they were even less happy with Makito's suggestions. Kenta, Shinji, Daisuke… so ridiculously normal. And I knew my baby was too special to be normal," she murmured, lowering her gaze again in memory, but this time without the smile. They were silent a moment, and when she finally did manage to look up at him, her eyes were steady and determined. "He'll realise that. One day; he will, I'm sure. He'll see it. He'll see how great our boy is."

Yami just gazed back at her silently, then slowly leaned forward with a furrowed brow. Neither spoke for a moment, until he lowered his eyes back to his game. "But you did end up marrying him. I've seen your identification – you're a Yosoushi by marriage."

"Yes. Yes, after Yuugi was born, of course, we saw a lot more of each other, and went to dinners and lunch dates and after a while… the meetings were less about Yuugi and more about… us," she said, losing her determined edge to smile more. "It was just like something from my stories, you know… and so easy. He kept trying to make me grow up and become a mother. I helped him learn to live a little; learn to laugh. We fell in love trying to fix each other. Makito asked me to marry him on the first White Day after Yuugi was born. We were married by Tanabata."

"Aibou's not a Yosoushi because you weren't married at the time," Yami surmised, dealing out a new layer of cards. "He wouldn't tell me the story because even today, what the two of you did was something of a scandal."

"Mmhm," she agreed, but then snatched up the card he was reaching for, holding it out of reach so he would have to look at her. "But more importantly, and what you need to know so you don't mention it, is why we never changed Yuugi's name."

He frowned, suddenly realising that was possible, and given Yuugi's age at the time, would have been logical. "What?"

"Makito looked at my family. He saw Papa and saw how much Yuugi already looked like him. He realised Yuugi would probably be a Mutou in body _and _mind. And considering how childish most people think Papa is, that wasn't really a good thing," she said quietly, much faster as she glanced over Yami's shoulder to the door. "So Makito always told Yuugi that when he became a proper man, we would legally change his name to 'Yosoushi'. For a long time, it was assumed that would happen when Yuugi entered middle school. And now it's his last year of high school and he's still a Mutou."

Yami scowled, his eyes narrowing again. "So he's – Bastard…"

"For the most part, no one thinks about it, because _we _all know names don't mean anything," she said, waving it off before becoming serious again. "But whenever the subject is brought up, the point is raised as well, you understand?"

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again, clenching his teeth and nodding. "I understand," he grated out, and she nodded quietly, holding out the card. He took it, but she didn't let go until he met her eyes again and scowled. "I would never hurt my aibou that way."

She smiled, letting go of the card and standing up. "I know. Good luck with your cards."

* * *

Yami wasn't very good at meditation. He had never really bothered with it in Egypt—though there was more chanting to blame in those days—and lately, he had found that the best method of relaxation and focus was lying with Yuugi and talking for a few hours.

But that wasn't to say he didn't know how to center himself.

Unfortunately, whenever he did, he found it most comfortable to sit on Yuugi's bed with his legs crossed and back against the wall. After about ten minutes of relaxing his mind and releasing his strength, he was so comfortable that he generally fell asleep.

So it wasn't until the bed bounced beneath him that he jerked awake, spinning around to realise Yuugi had slumped down on the bed beside him. He blinked, confused for a moment, but Yuugi didn't acknowledge him so much as hold up the remote and switch on the television with a jerk of his thumb.

"Aibou," Yami greeted, and Yuugi looked up at him from under his eyebrows.

"You need to enter another tournament," he informed him. "That or we announce that Yuugi Mutou has officially retired from tournament gaming, thank you very much, I have no interest in dueling anyone, goodnight."

Yami just stared at him blankly for a moment. "What?"

"I got four challenges today. _Four_! One even stopped me in the restroom! All tournament duelists are insane, the other me, that's all there is to it," he said, throwing up his hands.

He smiled, shifting out of his meditation position. "So this means you're talking to me again?"

"What? Wasn't I?" he asked blankly, and Yami's smile broadened.

"Don't worry about it. Doesn't matter to me anymore," he said quietly, and slid down the bed so he was lying across it in a mimicry of Yuugi's position. "So what did you tell the duelists?"

"Two I just told I didn't have my deck or Duel Disk, sorry about that; one I tried to convince that I wasn't actually Yuugi Mutou but I do get that mistake all the time; and the other one was the restroom guy, and he wouldn't leave me alone, so I tried to escape and Honda-kun ended up telling him to go away."

"Go away, huh?"

"In really polite words, too," Yuugi added with a grin, and Yami chuckled, turning his head toward the television.

"Well, hopefully that won't last too much longer. There's the gin tournament starting when you go back to school, and didn't Mokuba's last email say something about a convention in Beijing he wants me to go to?"

"Hong Kong, but yes. You're going to be my dueling partner that always tried to stay out of the limelight until now," he said absently. "Hopefully the photographers will like you. With any luck, no one will even notice Yuugi Mutou's left the gaming circuit and my name'll be forgotten by the end of the year."

"You really want that?"

Yuugi snorted, channel flicking until he found a music channel. "Of course. You're the Gamer, the other me. I just play for fun."

"No, I mean…" He hesitated, running his teeth over his bottom lip for a moment before continuing. "Do you want your name to be forgotten? Don't you want anyone to remember Yuugi Mutou?"

Yuugi opened his mouth to answer automatically, but then an idea caught him and he frowned, looking up at him worriedly. He hesitated, then shrugged and looked back at the television. "It wasn't me, was it? The Yuugi Mutou they all know is really you. So if that name's forgotten, then I won't have to be Yuugi Mutou anymore, and I can just be me, right?"

"You were always just you. You were always Yuugi Mutou, and I was always proud of you," he said, turning his head to look at him seriously. Yuugi blinked, looking at him sideways, and Yami rolled onto his side to meet his gaze. "Whether the gaming world knows it or not, you are Yuugi Mutou, and that's all you should ever have to be. Don't let anyone ever tell you anything different."

Yuugi blinked again, staring at him in confusion, but Yami didn't say anything more, just looked at him for another moment, then rolled back and focussed on the television. Yuugi opened his mouth once, then shut it again. He hesitated, then blushed, shaking his head with an embarrassed laugh.

Even for Yami, it was a strange, fairly complicated way of complimenting him, and with having grown used to his open flattery, it was taking a few moments to sink in.

But considering all the complications and pretending his family went through; that was just about the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him – even if Yami didn't know it. Not as great as hearing Jounouchi call him 'friend', but still right up there with the cool things that had happened to him.

So he leaned back with a grin, settling down to watch music videos and be content with himself. It was good to be Yuugi Mutou.


	7. Kiss

_**Kiss**_

**DISCLAIMER**: Sorry about the delay. Small matter of university and reality in general taking over my sanity to the point that I could barely breathe, let alone write. Some of you might find the reasoning in this chapter kinda… skewed, but you have to remember – even the whole and sane characters in Yugioh think a bit left of a pyschiatrist's ideal line of reason. It makes sense to them. And me. Which is worrying. Oh well.

* * *

"There's definitely something."

Honda held his wallet out of Jounouchi's reach as he looked around at Anzu, perplexed. "What's definitely something?"

Anzu blinked, not having realised she had even spoken, and then blushed and smiled, waving it off. They, Yami and Bakura were gathered around the back of the bento kiosk in the train station, though Bakura was casually analysing the station security and Yami was leaning against the kiosk in apparently deep thought, so neither of them really counted. Only Jounouchi and Honda had noticed Anzu's comment as she watched Yuugi and Ryou disappear into the crowd in search of an updated timetable.

"No, seriously Anzu, what's up?" asked Honda, shoving his palm against Jounouchi's face and pushing him away. "You've been acting weird for a coupl'a days now. Is something wrong, or what?"

"Not _wrong_, per se," she said reluctantly, looking back into the crowd. "And it's not just lately; it's just I've been thinking about it a lot since Yuugi and Yami 'got together'."

"Yeah?" he prompted.

"Well… I just… Have you noticed something different about Yuugi?" she asked worriedly. "Since Egypt, he's been acting differently, and I can't put my finger on what."

"Different?" repeated Jounouchi. "Like bad different or good different?"

"Good different," she said, frowning. "But I started noticing it in the Memory RPG, and, y'know, so I'm kinda worried."

Yami's eyes snapped open and Bakura turned so fast his shoes scraped against the concrete, but neither said anything as they waited for the conversation to continue.

"What, you think like maybe something got into him in the game?" asked Jounouchi, glancing at Bakura suspiciously. "You think something's controlling him?"

"If it is, it's done a damn good job pretending to be Yuugi if none of us have noticed in three months," pointed out Honda.

"Maybe not _controlling_ him, but there's definitely something different," insisted Anzu. "He's… cooler."

Bakura snorted. "What?"

She glared for a second, then focussed her attention on Yami in search of back up. "Isn't he acting a little differently? He makes jokes, he's brave, his ideas are great, he's more confident… in general, he's just that much cooler than he used to be," she said firmly. "Don't you think so, Yami?"

"No," he said, frowning at her. "If anything, I think he's gotten quieter since Egypt. He doesn't tell me nearly as much as he used to."

"He's not as dependent," agreed Anzu, as if that was just another point to her argument.

"Nneagh… I dunno, Anzu," said Jounouchi, making a face. "He's different than he was like, a year ago, but that's more 'cause of us, I think."

"The qualities you mentioned are ones he's always had," said Yami, tapping his head meaningfully.

"Y'know," Honda said suddenly, smirking. "If I didn't know better, Anzu, I'd say it's not Yuugi that's changed."

"Hm?"

"It's you," he said, grinning. "You sound just like one of those girls outta bad American TV. New season comes and they've gotta invent a new complication to hitch up the ratings, so they make a lasting character suddenly change her opinion of the main character."

Anzu blinked, and Bakura rolled his eyes, looking back to the security cameras now that they had decided it had nothing to do with the darkness. Yami, however, raised his head and fixed Anzu with a steady gaze.

"I don't get it."

Jounouchi grinned as he caught on. "Actually, yeah. You know what it is? It's because Yami and Yuugi aren't together anymore. Without Yami taking over every time there's something going on, you're getting to see Yuugi in all his bad joke-cracking glory," he said, then snickered as he raised his voice to announce, "You're getting a crush on Yuugi!"

Anzu blanched, falling a few steps back closer to Yami. "What! No, I'm not!" she cried. "I am _not _getting a crush on Yuugi."

"Hey, true, I guess you've actually had one on him for months now!"

Honda shoved Jounouchi away again, giving Anzu one of his patronisingly understanding looks. "Anzu, it's not like that. But Jounouchi's probably right, I mean… Yuugi's changed a lot in the past coupl'a years, right? And when you compare Yuugi now with Yuugi from the start of high school, it's a pretty huge difference. So while we've only known Yuugi _while _he's been changing, you knew him before he solved the puzzle and always thought he'd be the same. Maybe you thought that all the good things about Yuugi that've changed were actually all Yami."

"I know Yuugi better than any of you," she said defensively, taking no note of Yami's exceptioning cough.

"Sure, Anzu," said Jounouchi, smirking. "But whatever it is you're not feeling about Yuugi? Y'might want to take a chance with it while you've still got one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Vivian," stated Honda, raising an eyebrow. "Rebecca. Those girls that followed us around in America. Keri from class F."

Anzu blushed, taking another step back until she was leaning against the kiosk beside Yami.

"Girls like making the first move on a guy that's the poster boy for 'sensitive new age guy'," added Jounouchi, making a face.

"But he doesn't –" stammered Anzu.

"Two years of faithful friendship against five of only the most basic attention," Yami said lowly, almost glaring at her from the corner of his eye. "The three 'dates' with me. The _waterpark_. A maturity grown beyond affection being purely dependent on a skirt shorter than it is wide."

She flinched away from him, hurt, but Yami's eyes merely narrowed even further as he rolled onto his shoulder to look at her properly. "Jounouch-kun, Honda-kun," he said, the rarely used suffixes further emphasising the message in his eyes. "You shouldn't tease Anzu about this. She knows as well as any of us that any chance she had with aibou is in the past tense. Everyone knows things have changed, and they won't be going back to the way they were."

There was a pause as Jounouchi and Honda exchanged glances and Anzu gaped at him. The silence was quickly broken as Bakura looked over his shoulder to comment.

"Of course, the problem with that is that things _are _going back to the way they were. Aren't they, oh pharaoh?" he said casually. "Obviously, once the midget's father leaves, your little romance will go back into the imagination again, and things'll be as they ever were. Other prospects included."

Anzu frowned at a slight flicker in Yami's expression. There were implications in Bakura's statement—ones Jounouchi and Honda loved to tease Yuugi with—but she had never really taken them seriously. As Anzu regularly reminded herself, Yuugi and Yami were just very close friends. The idea of them being anything more was just a joke.

After all, Omocha had come up with that story because she read too many romance novels, not because there was anything there. Yami's habit of just appearing or changing the subject when things were getting personal between her and Yuugi was just bad timing. The reason she and Yuugi hadn't actually gone out or anything was because they weren't sure of how they felt yet – Yami had absolutely nothing to do with it. Yami made comments and warnings about Anzu taking it slow with Yuugi was because he was protective, not possessive.

She struggled with her thoughts for a few seconds, ignoring the conversation and Jounouchi's continued teasing. She wasn't quite sure why, but Yami's little statement had suddenly occurred to her as the most irritating thing she had heard all year.

She turned onto her side to meet Yami's gaze, smiling as politely as she could manage. "Now you think about it, though, Bakura-kun's right. Things haven't changed that much… It's kind of surprising Yosoushi-san believes the story, really."

Yami blinked, turning to face her again. Something flickered in his eyes, but his expression was perfectly controlled. "Oh?"

"Well, I mean, think about it. Yuugi's not the king of romance, but even he would hold his lover's hand back," she pointed out. "When people are genuinely interested in someone like that, they don't wait for the other person to touch them, do they?"

Yami didn't say anything at first, folding his arms and nodding thoughtfully. "You think Yososhii would pick up on that, do you?"

"I don't know. All I know is that when I see two people on the street and all they do is stand close to each other—and only one of them looks like he wants to—I don't think they're a couple," she said innocently. "And according to the story, you and Yuugi are pretty hot and heavy. You two can't even hold hands properly, let alone have so much as one little kiss."

"She's… actually got a point –" began Honda, but Yami quickly threw his hand up to Honda's face, a silent order to stop talking.

"We don't bother to kiss, Anzu, because it would be redundant," he said calmly. "Blind men see we care about each other more than anyone. It's no great leap of the imagination to think it's something more."

A new voice suddenly spoke behind Jounouchi, but both Yami and Anzu ignored it, too intent on their polite argument.

"What blind men can see is that you and Yuugi are just _saying _you're together so a paranoid traditionalist has a reason not to throw you out. All they hear is two close friends, at best," continued Anzu. "Anyone can see you and Yuugi are good friends. But if you're supposed to be lovers, then that anyone is going to wonder about the difference between discretion and… reluctance."

"I think you'll find you're the first person to think that, Anzu," said Yami. "And you know better, so it's only warranted that you, of all people, would doubt our relationship."

"I might have been the first person to say anything, but when Yosoushi-san sits through hours of movies of barely-dressed women with his hormonally charged teenage son, then comes home to see that son barely interact with his apparent lover, then I really doubt I'm the first to think it."

"We don't need to be physical, Anzu, because the emotion is obvious."

"The only thing that's obvious is that you _can't _be more physical, because aibous don't kiss."

The muscles in Yami's throat, usually barely visible behind his collar, clearly showed he had an answer to that, but he stopped himself before even opening his mouth, and just smiled calmly. "That's one opinion. But if we ask someone else, such as Jounouchi for… example…" He trailed off as he turned around, suddenly noticing Yuugi and Ryou standing between Jounouchi and Honda. They were both staring at him, Yuugi's brow furrowed slightly and Ryou barely suppressing his giggles.

There was another long pause as the group all looked between Anzu, Yami and Yuugi, before Yuugi slowly smiled, clapping his hands together in a quick and obvious change of subject. "So, we've got half an hour before Ryou-kun's friends get here. Anyone up for hamburgers?"

* * *

The bus was full of noise – Ryou's older friends were much more boisterous than any of them had expected. Several of them were wearing cloaks or carrying fake wands ala Harry Potter, and they all spouted quotes and made jokes that even Yuugi found geeky, but for some reason they got along great with Jounouchi and Anzu. The group had commandeered the back of the bus, laughing and swapping stories, with Honda and Bakura in the middle looking perplexed, and Yami and Yuugi in the very back row, watching the group with slight amusement.

They had quieted now, listening to Ryou recount an altered version of the Memory RPG in minute detail, and Bakura was muttering his regrets about letting himself get so attached to a pathetic rabbit. Yuugi was listening with half an ear, his attention more on Yami, who was drawing absent patterns in the thick folds of his vinyl pants.

Yami didn't often wear vinyl – he liked flashy jewelry, but usually leather was as wild as he got in clothing. It still suited him, though, on the rare occasions he did wear it. Anyone else would have made it look tacky or tasteless, but Yami made it look good.

Without really thinking about it, Yuugi reached out and absently scratched his nails down Yami's knee, propped against the back of the seat in front. Yami's fingers, still tracing lines in the folds, stilled for a moment, but Yuugi ignored them, pressing the edge of his nail into the material to make a dent, then pulling it smooth.

"Enjoying yourself?" murmured Yami, and Yuugi smiled.

"I like this stuff. Shiny," he explained, pressing a single finger into Yami's lower thigh to show how the light reflected.

"That is my leg you're playing with, though."

Yuugi didn't answer at first, his hand sliding over Yami's leg to lie flat, and slowly rolled his head back against the seat to look up at him. "Do you mind?"

"No," he said softly, his own hand shifting to cover Yuugi's and keep it there. "Anything you do is fine with me, aibou."

"Kinda thought so," he whispered, letting his head fall to Yami's shoulder. They sat in silence for a few seconds, watching lights pass through the dark window. After a moment, Yuugi nudged his elbow into Yami's side. "Why were you and Anzu fighting, before?"

"We weren't fighting, we were discussing."

"Fine, what were you discussing so casually?" he asked dryly, and Yami smirked.

"You heard us."

"Mm… But now it's not a matter of winning the discussion, what do you think?" he asked, looking up at him again. "She's got a point. I mean, that last movie I saw with Dad – wow. No other word to describe it. Those girls were just… and then I come home and we were just us."

"Yeah… but what can we do?" He grimaced, shrugging Yuugi upright and leaning against the window instead. "We don't need to pretend. You don't want to."

"I want this to work," he corrected, raising his eyes to the window as well. He could just see Yami's reflection in the glass. "I don't want Dad to think you're forcing me into anything."

Yami lowered his eyes, then took a deep breath and straightened up enough to meet his reflection's gaze. "I don't want you to do anything for someone else's sake."

"I'm just never really sure it's… y'know… maybe you don't want me to," he said quietly, but a heavy sigh was his only answer, and he smiled. "I know, I know… It's just… I'm never really sure what's okay and what's not. There's no set rules with us, so I don't know when I'd be out of line, so I just… don't."

Yami frowned at that, his brow furrowing as he struggled to understand. He turned around to look at him properly, but Yuugi just faced forward to avoid his gaze.

"I think that's why this isn't working, really. We don't look like friends, because we're not," he said quietly. "I think we're more than that. But we're not lovers either, so we could never look like them unless we actually tried to. Even then I don't know how far it would work."

He hesitated, wanting to go back to the point about not knowing what was right and wrong, but eventually let it go for now and shifted to look at his knees instead. "It's pointless to discuss it. We have a reasonable lie going on here and there's no proof we need to physically pretend. Besides, for all we know Anzu could be right and I'm not supposed to kiss my aibou. You could find it disgusting, and that would show on your face."

"I might not, too," he pointed out, still quiet. "And it's not like this is a new idea, here. Ryou-kun and Bakura-kun do a lot more than kiss when they're angry enough."

"Ryou and Bakura are mentally unstable," Yami replied, rolling his eyes. "They come from a sociopathic tomb robber that was unhinged from the moment he saw his village burn. They screw each other because it's their only method of communication."

Yuugi blushed bright red at that, and Yami smiled, exasperated. "Let's just drop it, alright? We shouldn't do it, so we won't."

"You think it would be too weird," surmised Yuugi.

"I didn't say that. I think you could be disgusted, and that would destroy any hope we have."

"How do you know I would be?"

Yami laughed, throwing his hand up. "Are you saying you want to kiss? Is that it?"

"I'm just _asking_," he said insistently. "Purely theoretical. Does the idea creep you out? Is that why you think I would be disgusted? Because it disgusts you?"

He hissed in a breath, glancing out the window for a second before turning back to face Yuugi head on. "Does it bother you?"

"I asked you first," he said childishly, grinning.

"If you want my answer, you have to answer first," he said firmly, and Yuugi tilted his head, curiously amused.

"You always do that," he said thoughtfully. "It's always about what _I _want, what _I _feel. Ever since Egypt, it's like you don't matter compared to what other people want. Is that a pharaoh thing, or…?"

"You are not one to talk about being a matyr. And I have at least three people who would argue against me being selfless in easy reaching distance," he said bluntly, but Yuugi just frowned, serious for once.

"I want to know what you think, this time. Forget about me, and everyone else," he said firmly. "If it were completely up to you, with none of our friends, my feelings, my parents, Grandpa – no one's thoughts but your own, what would you think?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Yami frowned, searching Yuugi's eyes for an answer. "Why does it matter?"

"Because what you think matters to me," he said simply. "And lately, you haven't been telling me any of your thoughts. So I'm asking you this. If our friends didn't care; if you didn't have to look Grandpa in the eye; if I just went along with whatever you wanted; what would you say or do to convince my dad we should stay together forever?"

Yami's lips twitched back in a half grimace, and he pulled back toward the window. But he kept his gaze locked with Yuugi, gauging his chances of managing a lie when they were this close. Eventually he shook his head, lowering his eyes and picking up Yuugi's hand from where it had fallen to the seat between them. He lifted it up to his chest and leaned in close, their forelocks pushing and curling together all too easily.

"You want to know what I would do? If there were no consequences? No tomorrow?" he clarified. "You want to know what I'd do to convince everyone we should be together?"

"Mm," he said, lifting his head slightly. "I really want to know."

He didn't answer, just slowly leaned in, wondering what was happening as Yuugi's eyes slid downward. Yami hesitated, his nose just brushing Yuugi's face, then slowly tilted his head, amazed as Yuugi did the same.

"_It burns us_!"

They flinched, instinctively jerking, only to have their foreheads smash together. They groaned and pulled back, both of them nursing suddenly throbbing heads as they realised one of Ryou's cloaked friends was screeching in a disturbing impression of a Lord of the Rings character. Yami grimaced and looked at Yuugi sideways, who sighed.

"Come to think of it, this might not have been the best place to choose for a deep and meaningful," he said regretfully, rubbing his temple. "Next time we don't want to be heard, let's go find a deserted island somewhere, ne?"

"It's one idea," he agreed wearily, leaning back in his seat and nursing his head. "But, for the record?"

"Mm?"

"It's not disgust that's keeping me from talking about this," he said, and Yuugi frowned.

"You couldn't have just told me that when I brought it up? Why do you have to be melodramatic about everything?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer, aibou."

* * *

"Okay, then. So if disgust isn't the problem, what is?"

Yami blinked, his surprise at being confronted only a step after he had left the games room mingling with disbelief and horror that Yuugi still wanted to discuss this. He frowned, his eyes sweeping Yuugi appraisingly before deciding to linger on the glass of coke Yuugi was holding. "You can't possibly be talking about what I think you are."

Yuugi grinned as he leaned back against the wall, trying and failing to copy one of Yami's more arrogant poses. "Ah, but you're obviously thinking about what I'm thinking about, so it can't be that unbelievable."

"I'm not thinking about it," he lied, frowning as Ryou stepped up behind him, a dozen empty glasses in his arms.

"Thinking about what?" he asked, looking between them curiously.

"We're talking about what Anzu was saying at the station," explained Yuugi. "Why we shouldn't listen to her and stuff."

"Why shouldn't you listen to her?" asked Ryou, turning to Yami instead. "She's got a good point; maybe you should 'pretend' a little more. Believe me, it's not as weird as you'd think it is."

"Aibou and I are very different to you and your thief," Yami snapped, taking a forceful step forward to move past Yuugi.

"I'm just saying, Yami-kun," said Ryou, as Yuugi quickly straightened up to follow. "If you're thinking about opportunity versus risk, it would make sense."

"There are worse risks involved in 'pretending' than there are in not," he said irritably. "And aibou, you can stay where you are because we're not discussing this."

Ryou frowned, exchanging glances with Yuugi, who sighed and waved him off. He hesitated, then nodded and headed into the kitchen, while Yuugi hurried down the hall after Yami.

"I still want to know what you think," he said, jogging so he could rush in front of Yami and force him to stop. "And if disgust isn't the problem, what is?"

"Aibou, this whole thing is ridiculous," he said irritably, folding his arms. "You don't want to, we don't have to, and there's no reason to discuss it!"

"You're shutting me out again!" he cried, waving his coke. "It's insane! What have you possibly got to protect me from in this situation?"

"Every action has a reaction, aibou. Consequences. And the fact is, I'm not prepared to deal with the consequences of this," he said, and stepped around him to reach for the bathroom door. "And neither are you. A kiss isn't just a handshake, aibou. Regardless of our intentions, there will be reactions."

"So it's about what our friends think?" he asked, grabbing the handle to keep him from opening it.

"I don't care what they think, but yes, in a way, that is what it's about," he said, scowling. "Your mother treats you differently just because I exist; how do you think she'll act when I suddenly start violating your mouth on a regular basis?"

Yuugi snorted, and Yami scowled, folding his arms.

"It's a serious issue, aibou."

"Unless you've got a different idea of kissing than me, I don't think it'll be 'violating'," he said, giving him a look. "And you're forgetting _why _we're so weird in the first place. We shared a body, the other me. That's why Mum has trouble sometimes – because one plus one only equals one in our case. And besides, with the story she made up, I don't see how she could complain if we started making out."

"Trust me, she would," he muttered, then raised his voice back to an audible level. "It's not just other people, aibou. I'm worried about you, and what this would do to us."

Yuugi frowned, his eyes narrowing as he stepped up close to Yami's chest. "That's it, is it? You think I'd take it the wrong way? That I'd get carried away and think we were in love or something?"

"That's not what I said," he said warily.

"But that's what it is, isn't it? You think that one little kiss would change my life forever!" he cried, but Yami didn't bother rising to the bait, just took another patient breath.

"I never said that and I don't think it. And it wouldn't be just 'one little kiss'," he said, then quickly added, "Nor do I think the amount would change your mind either."

"So what is it?" he demanded. "You're not disgusted at the idea, you don't think I'd fall all over myself for you – I don't get what your problem is! What could this possibly do to us?"

"It's a matter of possibility and consequence, aibou, that's all."

Yuugi shook his head, still not understanding, so Yami sighed and leaned back against the door, resigned to the conversation. "I like what we have, aibou," he said wearily. "I don't want to risk it, because I really don't want to lose it."

Yuugi hesitated, turning his head to the side in quiet confusion. "I really think you're making too big a deal out of this, Yami," he said quietly. "C'mon, I'll show you."

"What?"

He ignored the question, moving his leg between Yami's and pushing himself up onto his toes. With Yami leaning back and Yuugi standing straight, this put their lips in perfect line. Yami frowned, leaning his head back toward the door in confusion, and Yuugi smiled, leaning in to make up the distance until their noses touched.

"It's not that scary," he whispered, and Yami swallowed, moving his head forward again as Yuugi tilted his own. Yami's eyes slid shut without his consent, and he could just feel the tingle of Yuugi's lips on his own, when a loud slap suddenly broke through the quiet of the hall.

They jerked away from each other, Yuugi blushing and Yami struggling not to slide down the door as they looked around to see Ryou and Bakura standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Bakura's mouth completely covered by Ryou's palm.

"Uhh…" began Ryou, blinking rapidly.

"Ryou-kun? Bakura-kun?" Yuugi stared, stepping away from Yami. "What are you two doing?"

"Uhh – we were – my thief was just helping me – um," Ryou swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at Yami. He caught sight of Yuugi's glass, held out of the way by Yuugi's side, and grinned. "Drinks! My thief and I were just getting drinks for everyone."

Bakura glared at Ryou sideways, and Yuugi blinked. "I meant more right now."

"Well – um – we were –" stammered Ryou, but a quick movement at Yuugi's side cut him off. They looked around in time to see Yami shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving the rest of them to stare at the wood instead.

* * *

Yami grimaced, then slowly eased himself back against the metal patio chair. He had escaped to the balcony shortly after emerging from the bathroom, too preoccupied to risk talking to Yuugi or looking anyone else in the eye. But now he had mulled over it for almost an hour, and all he could come up with was that he just couldn't do it.

The part of him that had challenged Anzu that afternoon was telling him to shut up and take advantage of the situation. Next time he saw Makito, he should just shove Yuugi up against the nearest wall and take it as far as he could.

But that was the same part of him that had tortured people, and laughed over his own pyromania. He had spent a great deal of the last year denying that part of him in every single impulse. It was the part of him that was most affected by the puzzle – the part that caused his nightmares and scared people away from looking into his eyes for too long.

He sighed, leaning back until his head could rest on the wall behind him. He couldn't touch Yuugi that way, and he knew it. He knew perfectly well that as soon as he started, he would have trouble stopping. He would scare Yuugi, and they would never be able to go back.

The door scraped as it opened, and he rolled his head around to watch as Yuugi leaned out, resting on the doorframe to look at him.

"The other me…?" he murmured, frowning as Yami rolled his head back toward the sky. "You okay?"

"It's nothing," he said quietly, trying for nonchalance as he propped his elbows on the chair.

Yuugi bit his lip, glancing back into the flat for a second before stepping out and closing the door behind him. "You've been out here a while."

"I'm just thinking, aibou. Nothing to worry about."

He didn't answer, walking over to stand next to Yami's chair. He hesitated again, his hand rising and falling several times before clenching into a fist. "The other – Yami, I really don't think you should worry about this so much," he said nervously, and Yami raised his eyebrows, looking around to watch Yuugi reach out as if to touch his face. His hand faltered at the last moment, so Yami sighed and raised his own hand to curl Yuugi's fingers against his jaw.

"A very hypocritical thing for you to say," he said pointedly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Yuugi's hand.

"Maybe. But I'm not the one acting weird and hiding away from his companions," he replied, and Yami smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"But you are the one who's usually afraid to even touch me, but was fully prepared to kiss me," he shot back. Yuugi frowned, trying to pull his hand back, but Yami's hold was too tight, and he was quickly pulled down into Yami's lap instead.

"It's different," he said seriously, leaning away reluctantly as Yami curled his arms around his waist. "Besides, we're not talking about me, we're talking about you."

"Actually, I think we're talking about the same thing," he said, trying to catch his eye again. "We both think the other's acting strangely. So tell me, aibou. What makes kissing different from touching?"

"You're doing it again," he said, trying to be irritated. "I don't want to know what I think –"

"I've told you my reasons, you tell me yours," he said firmly, and Yuugi sighed.

"It's not the same. If we were going to kiss, it'd be because we had to – for pretend's sake. It wouldn't be because we were in love or something girly like that. It wouldn't mean anything," he said, and Yami frowned but nodded. As strange as it was, it made a kind of sense – as much as anything Yuugi did. "But the other stuff we do… like this, and holding hands and stuff… that does mean something. It's us just being us, and… and I don't know if that's right."

Yami narrowed his eyes, lost, and Yuugi sighed again, gesturing to their position. "I like this, Yami. I enjoy it, y'know? But the thing is, friends don't do this sort of thing. Friends don't hold hands and hug each other just because," he said tiredly, even as he leaned into Yami's shoulder, his head resting against Yami's hair. "We're not friends. I don't know what we are."

"You're my other self, aibou," said Yami, confused. "You're my –"

"Yeah, but there's no rules for that," he said helplessly. "There's no 'this is what you do' and 'this is what you don't do'. We're something different from everything else, and I don't know what we're supposed to do."

Yami hesitated, pushing him back to look at him. "Didn't I tell you a few hours ago that everything you do is fine with me?"

"Mm. But it's gotta stop somewhere," he said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "When does it turn uncomfortable? When do things get weird?"

"You think about things like this, and yet you don't understand why I think a kiss might hurt our relationship," he said blankly, and Yuugi groaned.

"Forget it, I know it doesn't make any sense," he said, pushing away to stand up, but Yami grabbed his waist and held him still.

"No, aibou, wait, we should talk about this. It goes into my problem as much as yours," he said, furrowing his brow. "How we show affection—" He smirked at Yuugi expression. "—is serious. To you, a touch with meaning is something to worry about. As long as there's intention, it's important. But to me, actions mean more than emotions. To me, a kiss will never be a handshake. No matter what our intentions are—even if we both know it's just pretend and it doesn't mean anything—it's still a kiss and things will change."

"But why?" he asked. "What's so complicated about a non-meaningful kiss between _us_?"

"A kiss is always complicated. It always has repercussions," he said, shaking his head. "And I don't want to risk hurting you, or what we have."

Yuugi paused for a moment, tilting his head in confusion. "But Yami…"

"What?"

"For most of the first two years of high school, we shared mind and soul space," Yuugi said slowly, blinking as if Yami had just told him two and two made five. "We shared a body. Blood, bones and germs alike. But now you think sharing _saliva _would make it different?"

"You think personal space is an issue," he retorted, but Yuugi was still staring at him.

"I think about how we feel! What we're talking about now is what we do."

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither understanding how the other came to their current concern. Yami grunted, reaching up to rub his temple, and Yuugi scratched his cheek, wondering how best to make his point. In the end, Yami just shrugged.

"I believe, aibou, that this is one of those issues that arise from being two halves of the same soul," he said finally. "We're never going to make sense to each other by trying to explain."

"But we can't just let this go," Yuugi said indignantly. "It's gonna come up again."

"Well, unless you can think of a way to show me what you mean, I don't see what we can do about it," he said simply, raising his hand in surrender, but Yuugi suddenly blinked, straightening up.

"The other me, I think that's the answer," he said, and Yami stared as he grinned.

"What?"

"Like I was gonna do before – I'll show you what I mean!" he said brightly, and then shot downward, grabbing Yami's shoulder to keep him steady as their lips met in a sudden, hard and meaningless kiss.

Yami could do nothing but freeze for a full second, gripping his chair with one hand and Yuugi's hip with the other, his eyes wide and unseeing as he received something he had only seen in movies – a truly fake kiss. It was strange, to say the least. Yuugi's lips were moving over his own, and there was pressure, but something was missing in the way Yuugi was touching him. He quickly decided he didn't like it much.

When Yuugi pulled back, they just stared at each other, considering. From the look on Yuugi's face, he felt something had gone wrong too, but that could have been his reaction to Yami's blank expression.

Briefly, Yami considered asking where Yuugi had learnt to do that, but his body seemed detached from his mind, because he heard himself say, "I'm not sure if that was right."

"No… didn't feel like it, did it?" murmured Yuugi, frowning.

"It wasn't like in the hallway, either," his mouth said, and Yuugi hesitated for a second, thinking.

"But I don't know what's different. Except back then we – what are you doing?"

Without even noticing his own movement, Yami had raised his arm from Yuugi's waist to support Yuugi's back instead, his other hand shifting to his hip. The back of his mind was telling him to stop – take control of his body again before he did something very stupid, but the rest of him didn't seem to be taking note. He was almost lifting himself up as he pulled Yuugi down, but Yuugi didn't object so much as lean into it, his hand on Yami's nape to keep himself balanced.

It felt much more like the moment in the hallway as they paused, their mouths just touching. Yuugi pulled back enough to wet his lips, and Yami's eyes slid shut as Yuugi's tongue brushed against him.

"It's not that scary," whispered Yuugi, though Yami wasn't sure who he was talking to this time.

"Of course, it's not real," he breathed, not caring which one of them it reassured more. The back of his mind was screaming now, telling him to pull back, push Yuugi away, shift to get his cheek instead – anything but what he was doing. But he closed it off, leaning forward to meet Yuugi in an unmeaningful, completely fake, and absolutely perfect kiss.

* * *


	8. Just Waiting

_**Just Waiting**_

**DISCLAIMER**: Ick. Ick, ick, ick. But! A side and random note – Yososhii, Japanese adjective, '(emotionally) distant'. Omocha, Japanese noun, 'toy'. Maki-tou-san, stupid punny name from a stupid writer, 'father Maki'.

* * *

Anzu loved Domino City.

She did plan to move to America—New York, to be exact—which had much a dirtier and exciting vibe (why she was attracted to that, the boys would never understand), but she loved Domino's city life. It wasn't packed like Tokyo, but it wasn't slow like some of the other 'cities' she had lived in when her father moved them around. It was a perfect blend of city and suburbia.

But sometimes even the crowded, bustling streets weren't enough to block out the cold.

Across the table, Yami was leaning back in his seat, his arm slung over the back as he patiently waited for her to explain why they were there. Yuugi had been immersed in a video game when she called, and all attempts at conversation were met with 'level twenty-two, Yami. _Twenty-two_!', but there was no reason Jounouchi and Honda couldn't have come. Yet Anzu had expressly asked him to come to their usual coffee shop alone.

She fiddled with her straw, her eyes barely flicking up to his face before returning to her iced tea. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it around her straw instead, her shoulders hunching uncomfortably.

"Anzu," Yami said finally, and she forced her gaze up to his. He silently raised his eyebrow, and she stopped drinking, but remained hunched over.

"Yami, I… we need to talk," she said quietly.

"Yes. Much as I like this place, I prefer to drink with a friend than a silent movie," he said bluntly, and she blushed.

"I mean we need to talk about –" She almost choked, but managed to catch herself and sit up straight to look him in the eye. "We need to talk about what happened at the station."

He made a small noise in the back of his throat, half surprise and half acknowledgement, his eyes flitting over her face. After a moment he sat forward, his eyebrows meeting as he set his elbow on the table. "Yeah. I shouldn't have said those things. Your relationship with aibou is none of my concern and I shouldn't make assumptions."

"No, you shouldn't," she agreed, then sighed, her shoulders slumping. "And neither should I."

He looked at her, his eyebrows rising again, and she lowered her eyes back to her drink.

"I – I guess I want to thank you, Yami. You're one of my best friends, and you've done more for me than even you know. You've made me wake up to myself a little and helped me come to terms with some stuff I was trying to avoid," she said, then smiled, her eyes narrowing at the thought. "For more than a year, I thought I was in love with you. I thought – I thought you maybe even liked me back."

He frowned, leaning his head back in confusion. "I do like you, Anzu. You're my companion… I don't see –"

"No, I mean… _liked _me, liked me," she said, her eyes widening meaningfully for the moment.

"Ah."

"Yeah," She laughed nervously, scratching her nails over her glass. "But, you know, obviously that's not the case."

"No," he agreed, and they both chuckled.

"I get that it never was," she said slowly, her smile fading. "But… I've only just recently figured that out. I'm not sure if my reasoning of why is right, but if it is, there's a couple of things I need to know."

His eyes narrowed, confused and wary, but Anzu just swallowed, her grip tightening around her drink as her determination rose.

"Neither of us should make assumptions, so I'm not going to assume Yuugi is still interested in me," she said, struggling to keep her voice clear. "But I know you used to push him to be happy with me."

Yami's eyes widened in realisation, before quickly turning away, focussed on some point outside the window.

"So what I want to know," she said carefully, "is whether you're going to keep doing that, or just let him find his own way, or…"

He took a breath, his hand curling into a loose fist where it hung off the table.

"What I need to know, Yami, is if you're going to try and stop me," she said, looking up at him in quiet determination. "I need to know if you're in love with him."

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, but she noticed his gaze never left the window. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Let me rephrase it then," she said, amazed at the coldness in her own voice. "Who are you going to _let _love him? What exactly are you doing with this situation?"

He didn't answer, and let the silence fall between them, his eyes never leaving that unseen point through the window.

* * *

"Yuugi, here you –"

"Level twenty-_three_, Yami! Final level!"

"I'm not Yami, and what?"

Yuugi blinked, his brow furrowing, but his eyes never left the screen. He was in the final stage of the best video game he'd played in months and be damned if he was going to let reality get in the way of his winning.

But then the voice finally registered and his eyes flicked over to the door long enough to take note of his father leaning against the doorframe. He had to leave it at a glance, however, as his current enemy—an eight-year-old with no sense of morality but great skill with axes—had just stolen his flamethrower.

"Give that back, you little –!" he growled, mashing the controller to pull out a crossbow. He pinned the annoyance to the wall, ran over to steal the weapon back, then barbecued him with it.

"Violent," Makito observed as he walked over to sit on the bed behind him. "Are all your –?"

"Final level!" he repeated irritably. Honestly, why did no one understand the importance of video games? It was like a conspiracy. As soon as he turned on his playstation, everyone in the world became duellists, and none of them had any idea how to shut up.

Makito stared at his usually overly polite son, then shook his head and looked up at the screen. Yuugi's character—something that looked like a cross between a gymnast and a grenade-toting madman—was surrounded by psychopathic children, all wielding some form of weapon and giggling maniacally. Yuugi, however, was undaunted. He snarled in a very un-Yuugi-like fashion, mashing buttons so his character crouched and set down a box that couldn't possibly fit in his pocket. '_Explosive magic cannon – level four_' flashed across the top of the screen as Yuugi's character leapt upward, the 'explosive magic cannon' exploding in a bubble of green flame to catch him and propel him out of the circle of insane children, which were, in turn, blown up by the device.

Makito flinched as blood burst all over the screen, but Yuugi didn't so much as pause, his character already pulling out a gun ('_Secondary realm shooter – level one_') to blast the remaining children into pure gore before rushing across the now blood splattered chamber to where a dog was sleeping. Yuugi finally stopped at this, his character turning in all directions to look around the gruesome scene before turning back to the dog.

"Yuugi, what are you –?"

"Final level!" cried Yuugi, his command for silence clear. His character inched forward, but the dog didn't stop sleeping. "What're you for, then…?" he wondered quietly, and backed off to take out his gun again. He shot at the ground around the dog, but it still didn't move. He shot at the dog, but the blast just ricocheted off and Yuugi's character had to quickly duck to avoid getting hit. When the blast had caused one of the dead children to jerk and splatter more blood around the room, Yuugi's character got up and walked around the dog, analysing it from all angles.

"No… it can't be that simple," he murmured, and walked his character forward until it automatically knelt beside the dog, hands on its back. "No… no, no, no…"

The character shoved the dog out of the way, revealing a trap door. Yuugi pulled out his flamethrower and destroyed the door. The screen immediately went black, only to separate into a wide screen letterbox as a movie began playing. Yuugi's character—a handsome young man in the movie—landed on a rocky surface and leapt acrobatically across a wide lava pit. There, on the island, stood a beautiful girl with short green hair and breasts far too large for her ripped shirt. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Yuugi's character ran forward to grab up the women in a tight hug. Dramatic music played as they pulled apart, then came back together in a kiss. The screen went black again except for a small loading box, which ticked for several tense seconds before Yuugi's score appeared and tallied. Yuugi frowned at it, but before Makito could ask why, a new loading box had appeared. After a minute, a second movie played, and Yuugi's character was arrested for child massacre.

"You got the girl, but you don't get away with it," a voice over informed them. "What were you thinking, shooting all those brainwashed kids? You're going straight to the chair, pal."

"I'm what?" screeched Yuugi, throwing down his controller. The movie continued playing to show Yuugi's character being strapped into a chair, the girl sobbing in the background.

"Game over," the voice said darkly, and the screen went white.

They both stared at the screen as it faded down to black, and then on to the opening screen. A muscle beneath Yuugi's eye began twitching. "I lost? I played twelve hours of levels, not including deaths and restarts, and now you tell me they weren't supposed to _die_? They were fleshy Chuckies! Of course they were supposed to die!" he shouted, punching the ground hard. "That's just not right! It's insane! Ohh, are you gonna pay for that, you –!"

"Yuugi?" interrupted Makito, and Yuugi blinked, clarity returning as he sat up straight. Makito leaned over to look at him in concern. "Yuugi, are you alright?"

"Me?" He blinked again, turning to look at him with his usual smile. "Sure, Dad. What's up?"

He just stared at him blankly, setting his elbows on his knees in open disbelief.

* * *

Although there would never be any substitute for hamburgers, ramen was still a good meal. It was easier to make polite slurping sounds with noodles, too.

"I hated this stuff when I was your age," Makito said, tilting his head to catch his mouthful. After witnessing Omocha literally beating the dinner meat with a mallet, they had wisely decided to head out on the town for lunch. After debating pizza and Chinese for ten minutes, they had compromised and gone for real food. "But then, when I was your age I was wearing tight jeans and gelling my hair into Elvis cuts, so you can see how good my taste was back then."

Yuugi blinked, then grinned. "Aw, I don't know, Dad. I've seen some pretty wild styles on the gaming circuit."

He raised his eyebrows, looking at him from under his eyebrows as he ate. "Wild?"

"Let's just say my hair isn't that weird," he said, and Makito laughed.

"I'd like to see that. Mind, your grandfather and his hair used to have one heck of a name in the gaming world, from what your mother used to say," He stuffed a new mouthful in and sat back, considering as he chewed. "Did he, or is that a daughter's false pride?"

"Oh no, Grandpa used to be the Game King. Wasn't a game he couldn't beat," Yuugi said around his mouthful. "We still get some people that know about or come to town to challenge the 'Legendary Gambler'. There's even a card named after him in Duel Monsters."

"Really?"

He nodded, holding up his chopsticks to show he had to swallow before answering, but a sudden shout cut across the café before he could. "Yuugi Mutou!"

He stiffened, then groaned, his head falling in resignation, because there was no stopping the wiry twenty-something that broke through the crowd to dash up to their table. "Yuugi Mutou!" he cried again, and slammed his hand down on the table. "Aren't you Yuugi Mutou?"

Yuugi sighed, opening his mouth to answer, but Makito beat him to it. "Yes, he is. Who are you?"

The man glanced at him, as if unsure why he would be talking, then grinned back at Yuugi. "You are Yuugi Mutou! Oh, man, I've seen all your official duels, and I'd just like to say how much of an honour it is to meet you!"

He smiled weakly, blushing. "No, I'm –"

"Your best duel was definitely the one against that guy who had all those Exodia cards," he continued gushing. "The God Cards aren't hard to beat if you know the trick – you've done it heaps of times now. But Exodia – no one's ever beaten Exodia!"

"Excuse me, but you are interrupting," snapped Makito, but he went ignored. Yuugi struggled to keep smiling, glancing at him apologetically. There was nothing he could really do to stop it, though.

"Please, Yuugi Mutou, it'd be such an honour if you would duel me," the stranger said, holding up his Duel Disk. "No ante rule, I just want to duel you once. Please?"

He winced, scratching the tabletop nervously. "Um… I would, but um… you see, I'm having lunch with my father, so –"

"Oh, wow, I'm so sorry, Mutou-san," the man spluttered, spinning around to bow to Makito. "Now _this_ is an honour – the father of the great Yuugi Mutou. You must be so proud!"

He stared at him blankly, then looked around at Yuugi in search of some kind of reason. In the end he went back to his usual standby. "It's Yosoushi, actually."

"Oh… well, anyway, Yuugi Mutou –" he began, turning back to Yuugi, but he just smiled as brightly as he could.

"I'm sorry, even though I'd like to duel you," he interrupted nervously. He never knew how these people would take rejection. "I was planning on just the time with Dad, so I didn't bring my Duel Disk or deck. Sorry."

The man was upset, succeeding in making Yuugi feel terrible, but recovered quickly enough to ask for Yuugi's autograph and opinion on his deck. He then bounced away to his absolutely mortified girlfriend, leaving Yuugi to deal with his bemused father alone.

"That happen often?" he asked, and Yuugi sighed.

"Not so much… and never if Yami's around. He confuses them, or something," he said wearily, picking up his chopsticks again. "But still way more than Grandpa ever told me happened to him."

"You're thinner and have much more normal dress sense, if the old pictures are to be believed. You don't look like a dwarf planning on proposing to his axe," Makito said casually, then smiled at Yuugi's snort. He leaned forward, tilting his head curiously. "I didn't realise gaming was so popular."

"It's just Duel Monsters," he said, poking his noodles. "And Kaiba-kun. He's made it really exciting, and virtual technology gets even the people that hate games interested, so it's a lot more popular than it was even five years ago."

"And you're the best in the world?" he asked, amused, but Yuugi made a face.

"Nah, I'm just the sidekick," he said, then looked down at his bowl again, frowning sadly. "I'm trying to get out of official gaming, actually. With everything that's happened, I just… I don't want to play anymore."

"Ah, well, maybe that's for the best," he said consolingly. "Those that don't win the war wish they'd never fought, after all. Best to quit while you're ahead."

Yuugi nodded, poking his ramen absently. "I'll never be able to leave it behind completely, of course. I mean, I'll probably take over the game shop, and Yami's gonna keep playing, so…"

"Hmm," he said vaguely, raising his eyebrows. "It's a cute pun, really – a tournament player with a partner called 'Yuugi'. I'm sure the press would love it."

Yuugi paused, glancing at him, but didn't answer. After a second, he decided he should have known better than to bring up Yami. It was almost like pouring ice water over the conversation.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, before Makito set down his chopsticks and picked up his tea instead. "You know I don't approve," he said suddenly, but waited for Yuugi to nod before continuing. "Issues of propriety aside, I don't like him. You have to know that."

He nodded again, resigned. "Mum didn't either."

"So why do it?" he asked, lowering his voice under the thrum of he surrounding conversation. "Why still do this when you know neither of us approve in the slightest?"

"Because it's not about what you and Mum approve of," he said quietly. "It's about me. My life, my choices, isn't that what it's supposed to be?"

"You're seventeen," he said softly, leaning forward. "The choices you make now affect your entire life. You're throwing your life away over a stranger."

"He's not a stranger."

"He is to us," he snapped, and Yuugi lowered his eyes again. Makito sighed and pushed his meal aside, leaning over until they were on level with each other. "We're just worried about you. Your father is worried about you, Yuugi. At seventeen, I had no idea who I was. The only thing I knew was that I wanted to go to Kyoto University to study finance but I was barely scraping a pass in maths. You don't know who you are; it's so easy to use that against you."

Yuugi raised his hands, lacing his fingers in front of his face to hide his eyes. "It's a completely different situation, Dad."

"I said the same thing to my father," he said, amused. "But things aren't different, Yuugi. Not that different. You're just a teenager like I was, only you're making some dangerous decisions here. You're letting people push you around."

"No, I'm not," he mumbled. "I don't let that happen anymore."

"Yuugi. You only met Yami a year ago. You're only seventeen. Hormones are ruling your head right now, you don't know if you'll even be interested in him in a few months. But you just let him make all these decisions."

"It's not like that," he insisted helplessly. "Yami and I are a team, for now and always."

"How do you know that?" he demanded quietly. "You've been together for what? Three months? What have you been through to know that?"

He didn't answer, shaking his head behind his hands.

"We only want what's best for you, Yuu—"

"Then you don't _know _what's best for me," he said wearily, and Makito leaned back, affronted.

"Yuugi, I'm your father, I know –"

"Dad, I know what you're getting at. But the fact is, you don't know what you're talking about," he said, raising his head enough to look over his hands. "Yami and I belong together. We are always going to _be _together."

"Yuugi," he said, frowning at him worriedly. "You're looking at things from a child's eyes."

"Children listen to their parents," he replied softly. "Children are ruled by their parents' approval. I'm not."

"You are acting like a spoiled teenager," he shot back, his voice rising to a normal level. "You are only looking at things from a short-term perspective. This is your future, Yuugi."

"I've seen him at his worst, Dad," he said desperately, begging for his understanding. "I've seen him do really terrible things. And I still know he completes me. That's gotta mean something, even to you."

"Listen to yourself!" he insisted. "Take a step back and listen! You sound like a lovesick girl, Yuugi."

He flinched, then lowered his head back behind his hands, taking a deep breath. It wasn't about what other people thought of him. Yami cared about him, no matter what he did. Yami always wanted to be with him. Makito didn't even want to be in the same country as him most of the time. It didn't matter. _He_ didn't matter. But dammit…!

There was a long pause, neither looking at the other.

"You know… the first night I really talked to your mother, she told me she only did the things she did because she wanted her parents to notice her," murmured Makito, gazing at his spoon. Yuugi raised his head again to look at him, but Makito didn't move as he murmured, "Is that what this is? Some kind of punishment for not being here? For not talking to you enough?"

Yuugi furrowed his brow, nonplussed. "What are you –"

"All these things you're doing," he said softly, suddenly looking much older than he really was. "The games, the game store, the friends, Yami Even your attitude… It just… it's not the boy I knew."

He stared at him blankly, lowering his hands. "Dad, this isn't –"

"No, Yuugi, it is. When you were younger, I knew you," he said firmly. "I knew who you were – who you were growing up to be. You tried so hard to be good, and I knew that if I waited long enough, we'd really grow to understand each other. I knew you'd grow up to be a good, strong friend and a great man. I knew what you'd like, what you'd hate, what kind of girl you'd marry… I knew you so well."

Yuugi frowned uncomfortably, and Makito shook his head, raising his eyes to the ceiling. "It's only been four years, but I just don't know you anymore. Four years, and suddenly nothing makes sense."

"Four years is a long time, Dad," he said quietly, but Makito shook his head again, insistent.

"Your mother hasn't changed. I haven't changed. But you have. I expected you to grow up, but this…!" He sighed, looking back down at him. "Sometimes I see the boy I used to know. You play your guitar or talk about skateboarding or soccer and I know you. But most of the time, you're this whole new person. You haven't even grown up to be your grandfather – I could understand it if you did, but you're not! You're something else entirely and I don't understand!"

Yuugi didn't answer, just looked down at his ramen again. It had happened before, too many times to count, but it was always hard to realise his father really didn't know a thing about him. He frowned, trying to remember a time when he really did – when Yuugi was honest and acted naturally. It had to have been when he was young… long before they moved in with his grandfather, and probably years before he took the puzzle.

He honestly couldn't remember.

He grimaced, picking up his chopsticks again to poke through the noodles, searching out the other bits and pieces. For as long as he could remember, he had been trying to convince his father he was something he wasn't. A good student, a sports' fan, a musician… but he wasn't any of those things. He wasn't even the obedient son people pegged him as, considering how comfortable he was with running off around the world without even telling his mother. He wasn't any of those things. He wasn't even Yuugi Mutou the Duel King – that was Yami.

If he was really honest with himself, he didn't know who he was; aside from just Yuugi. That was all he ever had been. But he was pretty sure that wasn't enough for his father.

Without even thinking about it, his hand slid off the table to touch his stomach, where the puzzle used to rest. Yami wore it these days – it fitted with his leather a lot better than Yuugi's jeans. But sometimes Yuugi wished he still had it. It had always been a comfort, reminding him that he was the one chosen by the Millennium Puzzle. That he was the only one to solve it in three thousand years.

The only one Yami's spirit had ever accepted.

Yami accepted him. He was proud of him. Yami had seen everything he was and would be, and he still wanted to be with him forever.

Yuugi smiled, feeling his shoulders slump even as he looked up at Makito. "I'm sorry, but… I don't really… care."

"You don't care?" he repeated incredulously, and Yuugi shrugged, smiling sadly.

"I really don't. I… I'm not the person you knew four years ago. I'm not even the person I _was _four years ago," he confessed, wincing when Makito's eyes widened at the implication. "A lot of stuff's happened in the last couple of years, and I've had to do a lot of thinking. Well… not so much thinking, but – I've had to be really – I mean – um… I've had to do a lot of stuff I wouldn't have. I've had to stop thinking about what people expect and just do what I have to. I've had to be what I really am, and I don't think I could ever actually… go back."

Makito frowned, leaning over the table again. "Yuugi, please. Just think about this, long term wise. You're only seventeen, you haven't really lived yet – you don't even know what love is, you can't –"

"It's not about love, Dad, it's about life," he said quickly. "This isn't about Yami –"

"The hell it isn't! He's the one who's ruined you! Can you honestly tell me he didn't start all this?"

Yuugi winced again, pulling his head back. He couldn't very well deny the truth of it, but putting all the blame for everything on Yami's shoulders was oversimplifying things a bit. "No matter how I felt about Yami, I still don't think I'd be the person you remember," he said softly, looking off to the side. "It's just that – For so long I was just waiting for you to realise, or for me to turn into that person you wanted, or something, but nothing ever happened. I'm never gonna be who you want, but these last few years I've realised that's okay. That it's okay to be me."

Makito pursed his lips, his paternal instinct warring with an ingrained desire for social perfection. Yuugi sighed heavily, turning to meet his gaze. "Yes, maybe Yami started me thinking that. Maybe it was his pushing that made me realise I don't have to be who you want, and I know it's him that's made me accept it. But that's not a bad thing, is it?" He looked at his bowl, then put down his chopsticks and pushed his chair back from the table, unwilling to meet his eyes again in case the answer wasn't the one he wanted. "This is my life, Dad. It's not about what you want or approve of anymore, it's about what I want. And if you can't deal with that, then I'm not going to make you."

He stood up, and Makito's lips parted in shock as he stared up at him. "Yuugi –"

"I've tried, and I've fought, and I've lied and I've done everything I can," he said, pulling out his wallet and opening it. "I'm not giving up, Dad, but I'm not going to hope. This is what it is."

"Yuugi, wait," he said quickly, standing up as well. "What are you saying?"

"I love you, Dad," he said softly. "But you can't make me into the model son. You can't keep me from Yami. We've beaten stronger forces than you, and you can't beat us now."

He hesitated, staring as Yuugi took out his money and folded up his wallet again. "So what are you going to do? Run away? Run off to Egypt with this foreigner and go broke trying to live off games?" he demanded, his voice shaking in some unnamed emotion. "Are you just going to avoid me for the rest of your life? I'm your father, Yuugi – your family! I'm trying to look out for you! You don't even know how you really feel about him!"

Obviously, he had been expecting Yuugi to burst out with a much more emotional and teenage response, because he flinched when Yuugi merely frowned, lowering his eyes to the ground.

"No," he agreed. "I don't know. I don't know how I feel about Yami. I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure…"

Makito smiled, relieved. "See? See, Yuugi, you need to take some time and think –"

"But I'm not going to do anything different," he said, cutting him off with a calm glance. "I'm going to keep doing what I've always done while you and I both work out how we feel about my life."

"Oh?" he asked, his breath seemingly having left him. "And what's that?"

Yuugi's lips pulled back in a slight grimace as he held out his money, which Makito took on instinct. There was another pause as they looked at each other, Yuugi smiling and Makito expectant, but his son never answered, just turned and started walking toward the exit, his head bowed but shoulders straight.

Knowing full well that his father couldn't follow until he had paid the bill, Yuugi slipped into the crowd, his size an advantage as he hurried to make himself as invisible as possible.

* * *

The house was bustling, the sounds of Omocha cooking a particularly violent meal and the afternoon store rush filling the house with noise. The last thing Yami was expecting was for the bedroom door to be locked. He ran into it face first, his eyes clenching on impulse and staying shut out of annoyance.

Too irritated to bother announcing himself, Yami loosened his grip on the handle, letting his darkness flow into the lock and turn it.

"Never, ever lock me out, aibou," he growled wearily, as he opened the door and walked inside. Yuugi merely hummed at him, seated in front of the television and focussed on his game. Yami raised an eyebrow as he reclosed and locked the door. "Have you moved in the three hours I've been gone?"

"I only just got home myself," he said absently, motioning to the screen with his controller. "Level one, see?"

He nodded, walking over to sit on the floor beside him. "You're being merciful," he noted, as Yuugi clubbed the nearest Chuckie-incarnate with a stick.

"Lost the game by killing them, first time," he explained, and Yami glanced at him, noticing the tired, breathy quality to his voice.

He hesitated, then shifted closer to curl around him, his arms wrapping around his waist slowly to give Yuugi time to move his controller. He kissed the side of Yuugi's neck, wary of the possible reaction, but Yuugi didn't even seem to notice, let alone wonder why Yami was doing it when there was no chance of parental viewing. He kissed him again, allowing his lips to linger in search of some response, but Yuugi merely took a deep breath, sighing it out as if tired.

"Something wrong, aibou?" he asked quietly, his lips still brushing Yuugi's skin.

"Maybe… I don't know," he confessed, then fell silent for a moment, his thumbs stilling on the controller as he gazed at the screen. Yami waited, recognising the need to stay silent, and Yuugi groaned, leaning forward to punch off the system. "I'm not in the mood for this."

He leaned back into Yami's shoulder, but did nothing but tilt his head when Yami's lips pressed against the tendon in his neck. He let his hands fall to hold Yami's arms, looking off to the side as he considered whether he should tell Yami where he'd been.

"I had a very quiet argument, today," Yami said suddenly, almost nuzzling the side of Yuugi's head.

He paused, then smiled, accepting the offer and turning his head to almost nuzzle back. "You too?"

"Not a single shout," he said simply. "But I'm ashamed to say I lost it."

"You lost an argument?" he asked, unbelieving. "_You_, the other me? What happened?"

"I was asked the one question I couldn't answer," he admitted, and turned his head to kiss Yuugi's cheekbone, smiling when it was received with a soft murmur. "Not without risking everything, and most probably losing everything in the process."

"Which was?"

Yami didn't answer at first, too busy enjoying Yuugi's strange lapse of reason by kissing the ridge of his eye. But he eventually pulled back enough for them to go back to a quiet nuzzle instead. "She asked me what I was doing."

"Doing?"

"Yeah. As a general question, not specific to the moment."

He hummed in understanding, but still frowned, pulling back to turn and look at him. "And what are you doing, in general?" he asked quietly.

"Waiting for something," he murmured, smiling softly. "Just waiting."

It was a little vague, and it didn't explain why Yami couldn't have answered whoever had asked, but Yuugi just smiled and nodded, obediently tilting his head as Yami leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"How did your argument go?" he asked quietly, slowly ducking his head to reach Yuugi's neck again.

"I walked out on it," he said, closing his eyes as a feeling he couldn't name spread from Yami's touch. "Ran away like always. A little pathetic."

"Don't say that," he snapped, but the fact his words were being muffled by Yuugi's throat removed most of the authority. Yuugi just sighed and leaned his head back on Yami's shoulder, too tired to do anything but accept the reassurance. Yami was contemplating the light burn scar on Yuugi's throat as he asked, "Why did you walk out?"

"Dad asked me the secret to my life," he said, smiling slightly. "I didn't think I should tell him."

"What secret?" asked Yami, raising his head to look down at him seriously. "The Millennium Items?"

"Mm-mm. Much more mundane question and answer," he assured him.

"Then what?"

He smiled, gazing at him quietly for a second, then slowly lifted his head, his hand rising to hold Yami's jaw steady as he kissed him. It was soft and far more gentle than anything Yami could have started, but it only lasted a moment before Yuugi pulled back to look at him again. "I'm just waiting," he said, smiling at the repetition. "Waiting to figure things out and have them figured out."

"It's the secret to a slow and boring life," stated Yami, and Yuugi grinned lazily, leaning up to kiss him again. It was longer this time, giving Yami time to take control and make it a little less gentle. They pulled apart, and Yami's smile had turned thoughtful, a little concerned. "What are you doing?"

He shook his head, his smile fading as he curled his hand into Yami's jacket collar. "I'm not sure yet… Still waiting to figure it out."

"Alright," he whispered, but kept watching him worriedly, even as he was pulled down again. "I can wait."


	9. Eclipse

_**73 – Eclipse**_

**DISCLAIMER**: '_Eclipse, noun and verb, definition three. A rapid or sudden loss of importance or prominence, esp. in relation to another or newly arrived person or thing._' There you go! I learnt something!

* * *

Dinner had become the hardest part of his day.

Although entering the house was always like entering a tense refrigerator these days, most of the day was generally bearable. Makito stayed out of the boys' way and they made an effort to keep their actions platonic when he was in the room.

Even Yami was making an effort to keep things civil. He was almost pleasant to Omocha, something she insisted was downright amazing, and he even tried to keep his comments to himself when Makito was speaking. But not even Yuugi's meaningful looks could keep Yami's glares from shooting across the dinner table.

Still, Makito could deal with the glaring, and the obvious dislike. What he couldn't take was the silence. Ever since walking out on their discussion in the café, Yuugi had refused to speak to him. He wouldn't even meet his gaze, just kept his head down and stayed focussed on whatever he was doing.

Beside him at the dinner table, Omocha gave Makito one of her sympathetic looks, shrugging helplessly. There was nothing any of them could really do about the silence until either Yuugi or Makito gave in, and Yuugi had made his stance clear. But Makito knew he wasn't at fault – he wanted the absolute best for his son. It was a father's prerogative.

He poked his meat, glancing at Yuugi from the corner of his eye. He was eating steadily, clearly wanting to leave as soon as possible, and kept glancing at Yami's plate to see if he would take much longer. On the other side of the table, Sugoroku frowned, raising his eyebrows as he looked around the table, searching for a way to break the silence.

Luckily, he was saved from having to make the attempt by a shrill ring from the other side of the room. Omocha sighed gratefully and pushed herself up to hurry around the table and snatch up the receiver, turning her back on the family to answer it. "Hello?"

In keeping with the interrupted silence, Yuugi cleared his throat as he reached for his drink, but had only just raised it to his lips when Omocha called out to him. He blinked, turning to look at her, and she held out the phone.

"It's Honda-kun," she explained, and he blinked, then stood up to take it from her.

"Yes, hello? Honda-kun?" he asked, turning his back on the table just as his mother had done. "Something wrong? You never call –"

He cut off as if interrupted, and Yami looked around curiously as Yuugi leaned his hip against the countertop, listening hard. "Aibou?"

He waved him off, and then reached over to grab the remote for the kitchen television off its shelf. He turned on the television, muted it, and then quickly flicked to channel twenty-two, ignoring his mother's grumbling about television at mealtimes. A giant rocking horse appeared on screen, slowly making its way through the streets of Tokyo, and Yuugi dropped the phone.

"Yuugi!" cried Omocha, but he ignored her, gaping at the screen.

"What the hell is that…?" he murmured, and the whole family stared.

"Aibou?" Yami repeated warily. "What's going on?"

He blinked, Yami's voice calling him back to the living, then flinched and jumped to grab the phone back up off the floor.

"Honda-kun? You still there? No, I dropped the – Is this –? Yeah, I… I um… Okay, uh, look. I'll call Anzu, and we'll meet you guys at the usual place as soon as we can," he said distractedly, then nodded. "Mm, okay. Bye."

He pulled the phone from his ear, still staring at the television as he absently redialled by touch. Omocha scowled and walked over to lean around him, her eyebrows rising as she peering at the television. "Wait a minute. I thought this was one of your movies but… isn't that the National News symbol?"

Yami frowned, turning to watch as the screen switched to the usual reporter, who looked just as confused as they all felt.

"Must have been a film clip," said Makito, going back to his meal. "I wonder what the film company's done to warrant an appearance on the news?"

Yami glanced at him, then looked around to meet Yuugi's gaze. He nodded, and Yami stood up violently enough to throw his chair back a foot, dashing out of the room. Yuugi put his hand over the mouthpiece to call after him. "Get mine, too! I'll get the Items!"

"What is it, Yuugi?" asked Sugoroku, but he went ignored as Yuugi refocused on the phone.

"Ah, Mazaki-san, it's Yuugi. Is – mm, I know, I… Yes, I – Look, is Anzu there? It's really important. Thank you… Yes, we'll be sure to do that… uh huh…" He clenched his teeth, rolling his eyes impatiently and beginning to bounce on his toes. "Yes, Mazaki-san. That – Anzu! Are you watching TV? Look at channel twenty-two. Mm, now."

There was a pause, before Anzu's '_what_!' blasted through the phone loudly enough that even Makito looked up. Yuugi grimaced, gingerly putting the phone back to his ear. "Mm. So… yeah. We're meeting in the usual place… Mm… No, I don't, just got the call from Honda-kun… Mm. See you soon." He quickly hung up, then rushed out of the room without so much as a glance at his bemused family.

The sound of Yami thundering back down the stairs quickly reached them, and he came back into the kitchen, clipping on a belt Makito had seen only once or twice. It slung low on his hips and was designed to hold either cigarettes or bullets, but Yami used it as a card holder. He was carrying another one over his shoulder, and Yuugi's backpack in his left hand. He quickly went to the cupboard, snatching down a few snacks, then spun around. "Travel money?"

"Safe," Sugoroku replied blankly, and Yami nodded as Yuugi rushed into the room, holding a strange golden sceptre and his wallet.

"I've got the tauk, too. I don't know how much use either of them will be, but I figure without you I'm going to be pretty useless," he said, handing Yami the sceptre and taking the spare belt to clip around his own hips. "But with three Items I might be able to summon something. Maybe."

"I'd rather you had all of them," muttered Yami, stuffing the sceptre into the bag and taking Yuugi's wallet to do the same.

"Too heavy. Wouldn't be able to run," he said, and Yami nodded.

"I should have expected this. Your dreams, the darkness, Ryou and Bakura leaving town – if that wasn't hint enough! But with everything else I just wasn't thinking! Great king, hah."

Yuugi glanced at him, annoyed, but took the backpack to sling over his shoulders in silence. He turned around, staring at his family as if he had only just noticed them, and smiled. "Um… see you!"

"Yuugi!" cried Omocha, spreading her hands. "What are you doing? Why are you taking those? You said that was all done!"

"We lied," Yami said simply, and pushed Yuugi out of the room. Sugoroku stood up to hurry after, Omocha close behind. Makito blinked, completely lost, but followed after them patiently.

Yuugi and Yami were shoving on their shoes when he arrived in the entrance hall, and Omocha was nearly in tears with panic.

"What is it?" asked Sugoroku, concerned. "I thought you had stopped the Dark Games?"

"Until the Darkness is sealed, the Dark Games will be played," said Yami, zipping up his boots. "Darkness will always fight to rule."

"And besides," said Yuugi, stamping his foot so the sneaker fit properly, "this isn't a Dark Game. We don't actually know what this is."

"Then why do you have to do anything?" demanded Omocha. "This isn't your problem, is it?"

Yami stared at her incredulously. "It's a giant _rocking horse._"

Makito stared as Omocha bent her head in concession, and Yuugi grimaced. "We'll call," he promised, then hurried into the game store and out, Yami following close behind.

* * *

They didn't come home that night.

No one slept, though Omocha made herself ready for bed and sat under the sheets, clutching a pillow. Sugoroku sat at the kitchen table, shuffling an old, dog-eared deck of cards, waiting for Makito didn't know what. He himself stayed on the couch, expecting Yuugi to try and sneak back in at three in the morning. He was planning on demanding an explanation, but the closest any of them got was a phone call at ten o'clock the next morning. Sugoroku answered it, leaving Makito and Omocha to listen on the upstairs extension and feel voyeuristic for reasons they couldn't explain.

"We're with Ryou-kun's family right now," It was Anzu, but she sounded tired and world-weary in a way Makito had never imagined from her. "This is where it started – something to do with this really big wooden jigsaw Ryou-kun's friend bought."

"Is everyone alright? Yuugi?"

"Most of us are fine. Yami's deck took a battering, but that's only to be expected. And who ever knows, with Yuugi? He got thrown across a room, but Yami's doing the usual protective guilt trip, so it's hard to really tell. We've had to hide the jigsaw puzzle from him though. It's getting ridiculous. Source of evil and he's started to put it together about six times now."

"He must be alright, then. Do you have any idea when you'll be back?"

"Mm. Yuugi, Honda and I are coming back with Ryou-kun and the jigsaw puzzle later today. The others are staying here to keep all the giant toys distracted while we see what the jigsaw actually does. We won't come to the game shop unless we have to, though – too dangerous for all of you. We'll be at Ryou-kun's," she said, and someone spoke in the background, prompting her to ask, "Is anything happening in Domino?"

"Nothing that we know of. But we haven't left the house since last night, and the news is only playing scenes from the major cities."

"Okay, hold on," She repeated the news to whoever was in the background, then came back to repeat their instructions. "Call us if anything does happen. Do you have my mobile number? Yuugi has it… Hold on – Where? In a black leather address book in his top – Yuugi has a little black book? Sorry, sorry! Sorry, Grandfather. It should be in a black address book in the top drawer of his desk."

They spoke for a few more minutes, and Makito kept expecting her to give the phone to Yuugi, so he could check in with his parents, but all she said was he was talking strategy with 'the others'. She hung up without even asking about her own parents, let alone them.

* * *

They were toys. Big stuffed animals and wooden playthings.

Makito shook his head in determination, bending over the next form. Omocha had assured him that it was perfectly normal for Yuugi to just disappear without explanation or contact, and he had decided he might as well carry on working. Teenage boys were natural idiots, after all, thinking they were indestructible. No matter how breakable and innocent Yuugi was, he was still a teenager and didn't think he needed to tell his parents what he was doing.

So Makito had gone into the city to organise his next business trip, and was currently struggling to fill in the twenty-odd forms that would allow him to fly to Hong Kong and then move to Sydney for six months.

The problem was that he kept having mental images of one of the child maniacs from Yuugi's video game appearing in the middle of the street and slicing his son into bloody pieces of gore.

He grimaced, pressing his stamp to the final signature point for the form and trying to force the image out of his head. They were _toys_ that were randomly appearing all over the country. Twenty-metre tall teddy bears, tin soldiers and rocking horses. Nothing to be worried about. Yuugi was seventeen after all, almost eighteen. He could handle himself against _toys_.

So why did Makito feel Omocha was justified in chewing her thumb until it bled?

He wasn't really paying attention when his phone rang, and didn't notice the landline beside him start ringing as well. He just fumbled around in his pocket, flicking the mobile open and raising it to his ear. "Yosoushi."

"Hello-hello-hello!" chirped a high pitched, drawling voice. He blinked, raising his head in confusion, and looked off to the side. A few other people on both mobiles and landlines doing the same, he noticed absently. "This is the Royal Court Performer, and I send you greetings. And now, a missive from the royal family! '_Work is good, but not for now; so leave the chores and leave the cows! You work all week and build up stress, which concerns the king as you can guess. He sent me out to show you how today no work will the king allow. The time for now is playing and fun, so enjoy yourself or _you'd better run.'"

He blinked again, pulling the phone away to stare at as the oddly threatening message began repeating itself. On the other side of the desk, two office workers swapped phones and listened, mouthing the words he was hearing himself. He hung up the phone, and flinched when it immediately rang again.

He hesitated, then slowly touched the call button and raised it to listen.

"Hello-hello-hello! This is the Royal Court Performer, and I send you greetings. And now –"

Makito punched the call end button, leaning away as it began to ring again. He turned the phone off, and quickly put it back in his pocket, suddenly nervous as he glanced around. All around the room, office workers were disconnecting and reconnecting their phones, trying to make them stop ringing. Most people were turning off mobiles, and one secretary, surrounded by four different telephones, was even yanking all her power cords right out of the wall.

"Al-right then…" he murmured, slowly getting to his feet. Something was going on here, and he had the feeling he didn't particularly want to find out what. He put down the forms he had completed, slipped his stamp into his briefcase, and quickly turned on his heel, striding for the elevators. He didn't stop until he'd reached the street and saw even more people snarling and turning off their mobile phones. Several teenagers were crowded around the public telephone boxes, laughing as they apparently listened to the strange message that was playing in even those receivers.

He was simply staring at the crowded street when a flash of light caught his eye, and he whipped around to face a tall man in a black tuxedo, top hat and cape. Several young women around him giggled, muttering about Sailor Moon, but Makito didn't think the man was funny at all. He had the nearly undeniable urge to grab everyone closest to him and flee.

"Greetings," the man said grandly, pulling a long black wand from his cape. "My name is Marvello, the greatest magician on Earth! Are you having fun, my boy?"

He swallowed hard, taking a nervous step backward. "Am I… what?"

"Are you enjoying yourself, lad?" he demanded, stepping forward and looming over him. "Are you making the most of this glorious age of freedom? Or do you dredge yourself in the confines of work, despite my lord's wishes for us all to experience the wonder that is life?"

"I…" He stumbled back a few more steps, and felt several of those formerly giggling women do the same, drawing back out of nerves.

"Answer carefully, now, son," Marvello said, his smile disappearing and eyes narrowed. "Those who do not follow my lord's orders can be made to do so, for I am Marvello, and control is no great feat for a magician such as I."

"Oh yeah?" called a loud voice. "Well then we got someone that's one up on you!"

"Silent Magician – attack!"

The terrifying magician had a bare second in which to spin around before he was hit in the chest and thrown backwards by a large beam of white light. Makito and the surrounding people gasped as he slammed into a nearby car, then exploded into millions of multi-coloured butterflies. The audience turned back to see a majestic teenage girl with pale hair and a long white sceptre floating several centimetres above the ground, surrounded by several familiar teenagers, Yuugi's friend Honda in the front. He was smirking at the butterflies, but behind him was Yuugi himself, holding up a strange wrist device and panting heavily.

"I hate it when they look human," said Anzu, standing behind Honda and holding an oversized box. "It's just creepy."

"All of you need to go home," said Honda, looking around at the crowd but not even noticing Makito. "Go be with your families. Don't do any work, no housework, no bills, no nothing. Just go home and watch TV or something."

They all stared back at him silently, before a small boy behind Makito's back stepped forward, looking terrified. "Wh- what's going on?" he asked nervously.

"Nothing that won't be over soon," soothed Anzu, smiling at him in an oddly motherly fashion. "We promise. Just go home and play video games or something, ne?"

"Pokemon's on soon," said Yuugi, smiling at him despite his obvious exhaustion. "Why don't you go watch that?"

"Gotta catch 'em all," recited Honda and Anzu, grinning.

The boy hesitated, then nodded, and the crowd all shifted nervously, unsure of whether they were dismissed from their apparent saviours.

"We have to go," said a new voice, and the strange floating girl turned around, revealing Yuugi's friend Ryou. He was holding up a glowing gold ring, its decorative spikes pointing straight behind them. "There's more coming, and they're going to notice us _before_ the innocent bystanders soon."

"Yeah. You okay to run, Yuugi?" asked Honda, and he nodded, quickly leading the way past their staring audience. Makito blinked as they went, a small part of his mind amazed with how easily Yuugi kept up with the long-legged Honda.

Then he realised Yuugi hadn't even noticed him, and the tall white girl was now flying over the group's head.

He blinked several more times, a feeling of hopeless confusion welling up inside him.

* * *

"Omoko!" he shouted, slamming the front door behind him and leaning back against it. "_Omoko_!"

Makito considered himself a fairly well adjusted person. Yes, he had grown up in a household was constricted he had difficulty functioning in casual society; yes, he was only thirty-eight with an almost eighteen year old son; yes, his family was less than perfect; and yes, he was well aware he had self-image issues that had almost broken up his marriage more times than he could count. But on the whole, he felt he was a fairly normal person with fairly normal reactions.

So he felt quite within his rights to be absolutely terrified of a giant stuffed dog that was whiling away the hours by knocking down the buildings around his house.

"What?" asked Omocha, as she stepped out of the lounge room to blink at him. She didn't seem quite as alert as usual, her mind slowed by lack of sleep and the whole situation.

He stared at her for a few moments, his jaw working but no sound managing to come out. In the end, he fell on a safer topic than the crazed toys. "I… saw Yuugi."

She blinked again. "Oh…? Is he alright?"

"He's…" Yuugi was running around town with a flying girl that could blast beams of light and turn strange and dangerous men into butterflies. "He looked tired."

"Oh… I see. We um… We had a call from Yami while you were out," she said dazedly. "But now the phone is… not working. Your mobile?"

"Also… not working," he said haltingly, and they gazed at each other blankly for a few seconds. He hesitated, then blinked again. "Did – did Yami… say anything?"

"Yes," she said slowly, and bit her lip. "He – he suggested we not worry too much. We… should just –"

"I hate dogs!" announced an unfamiliar voice, and they both jumped, staring around as a tall blonde woman wearing nothing but a revealing purple dress and knee-high boots stalked into the game store. She slammed the door behind her, moving out of sight. "_Yuugi Mutou_! I know you live here and I know you know something about all this, so get out here!"

Sugoroku's head poked out of the kitchen, glancing back at them and then turning toward the game shop. They all blinked as the woman appeared in the doorway and immediately began glaring around at them all. Her gaze quickly focussed on Sugoroku, and he grinned broadly, beginning to preen his beard.

"You! You must be Yuugi's grandfather," she snapped, and his grin widened. "Where is he?"

"Out," he said, his voice chirpy in a way Makito couldn't remember hearing before. "We haven't been introduced. I'm Sugoroku Mutou; it's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance!"

"Mai Kujaku," she said absently, setting a hand on her hip in a way that, had she been wearing a different expression, would have looked provocative. As it was, she just looked annoyed. "Where is he?"

"We _think_ at Ryou Bakura's house –"

"Bakura? The white-haired pretty boy basket case that's always either really quiet or cackling about darkness?" she asked, tilting her head in thought.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

"And where does he live?"

Makito and Omocha stared as Sugoroku gave her Yuugi's address book, and she tore out the page with Ryou's address. "Thanks, old man," she said, and winked, blowing him a kiss. "You're a sweetheart."

She then marched out of the house, long hair swinging as she left them to stare after her blankly.

No one moved for a full thirty seconds, too shocked by the stranger, before Makito spun around, staring at Sugoroku wildly. "Are you insane? We don't know her – she could have been a raving lunatic—which I don't doubt from a girl in _that_ outfit—and you just give her my son's address book and tell him where he is? She could have been a homicidal maniac!"

Sugoroku gazed back at him calmly for a moment, then smiled. "If you're still worried about that, I think you might need to spend a little more time around Yuugi's friends, Makito."

He gaped at him, then looked around to Omocha for support. She just winced, shrugging helplessly to show Sugoroku had a point, and his shoulders slumped.

Clearly, either his entire family had gone insane, or the world had. No matter what, he was the only one left, and he honestly wasn't sure which one he preferred.

* * *

Makito frowned, tilting his head at the television.

The news was now broadcasting that although Japan _had_ been literally overrun by giant toys for a few hours, most of the activity had died down and was now centralised on the West Coast, specifically the home city of Kaiba Corporation. Therefore, the reporters concluded, the country could rest assured this was yet another ludicrous attempt to discredit Kaiba Corporation, and as such, all their competitors would be looked at to find who should be held responsible for the three deaths and hundreds of casualties sustained in the conflict.

Sugoroku snorted, once again hidden behind his newspaper, and Makito raised an eyebrow, glancing first at him then around at Omocha. She didn't return the gaze, eyeing the television with distaste and once again biting her thumb.

He opened his mouth to ask why they were so upset over the reported conclusion, but he was cut off by a loud bang.

From the sound of it, the game shop door had slammed open so fast that it rebounded, and was shoved back again by a wild fist, only to rebound again and be hit by a more purposeful fist that kept the door from rebounding and caused several panes of glass to break. None of the people entering even paused, however, just continued rushing through to the house.

"Hi Grandpa, hi Mum and Dad," called Yuugi's voice, completely ignoring propriety by the sound of it. He was already charging up the stairs without so much as removing his shoes.

The three of them stared at the door to the lounge, listening to the sounds of several people following him and several others milling around the hall. There was a pause, and Anzu and the blonde woman from before poked their heads into the room.

"Umm… sorry about all this," said Anzu, smiling apologetically. "We'll explain everything later."

"If we don't die beforehand," the blonde woman added casually, and Anzu glared up at her.

"Mai!"

"And by the way, uncle, I forgot to say earlier, but I _love_ your hair," she said to Makito, smirking. "If you were twenty years younger…"

"_Mai_!" Anzu hissed again, though she was grinning as if she had just heard something fantastic.

"Sorry about the door," said Ryou, appearing behind the girls with a guilty wince. "Bakura didn't – well, he did mean to stop the door, but not break it. Well, not the glass, anyway. I think. We'll pay for it. Somehow."

"Yadounushi, stop apologising to the bastard!" shouted a different voice, back in the entrance hall. "The midget's lucky I haven't killed him yet!"

"You do and I'll kill the idiot that brought you to Ryou!" Yami's voice shouted from the floor above.

"Oh, the good and gracious pharaoh decrees on righteousness again!"

"Thief, is this really the time?" cried Ryou, staring back down the hall.

"Isn't it weird how you can want to kill your in-laws, but a look from your lover completely changes your mind? What's the word I'm looking for? Whipped?" asked yet another voice, and several people cried out, Ryou actually dashing away from the door to most probably protect the speaker.

"Got it!" shouted Yuugi, as he came rushing back down the stairs.

"I still want to know why you have acid lying around your house," said Honda's voice.

"So do I, actually," said Yuugi, and Yami coughed.

"Right, well, let's go."

Anzu and Mai waved, then rushed back out, apparently following the others out the door and slamming it behind them. Makito got up and looked out the window in time to see several tall people and strange monsters fly past, one of them a more adult version of the girl he had seen with Yuugi that morning.

He stared for a second, then shook his head and went back to watching the news. Business dealings were much less concerning than the image of his son carrying acid out into that.

* * *

It was almost dawn when the screaming finally stopped.

For hours, over the whole night, all they could hear was the far off sound of inhuman screams and terrifying laughter. Roars had filled the air, but there was no blocking out those terrible screams. Omocha had long since crawled into her husband's arms, and that was before everything started shaking.

No one slept. Makito would be amazed if he ever slept again.

But it was dawn now. The roaring was done. The laughter had died. The screaming was over. It was almost strange to realise all they could hear was a natural pre-dawn silence, and the quiet sounds of the far-off highway.

Omocha slowly pulled away from his chest, gazing around their bedroom, and he raised his head to do the same. Everything seemed normal. Even the paintings were still in their proper places, only slightly askew from the mini-earthquake they had experienced.

"Is it over?" she whispered, afraid to break the silence.

"It's still shaking," he whispered back, and she frowned, looking up at him in concern.

"Anata –"

The soft sound of the game shop bell broke the silence, and they both gasped, looking up and around. Omocha scrambled out of his arms, and they both hurried out and down the stairs to join Sugoroku in rushing into the store.

The tired looking group that was still filing inside was barely recognisable. Anzu came first, wide awake but clutching a chained and scorch-marked box to her chest like a lifesaver. She was followed by Ryou and a large man with dark skin and pale blue hair, holding each other up somehow and looking exhausted. A thin, lanky boy with a long, stylised black ponytail followed them, rubbing his neck but looking around in interest, and Mai, who was holding Jounouchi's arm around her shoulder despite the fact he seemed perfectly fine. Once they were all inside, Yami stepped in, absolutely exhausted and cut in several different places, a large bruise forming over the lacerations on his cheek. He was carrying Yuugi's backpack, and kept looking over his shoulder to where Honda was bringing up the rear, gingerly holding a dirty bundle of cloth to his chest but otherwise looking perfectly normal.

There was a pause, before Omocha gasped, and Makito suddenly realised what the bundle in Honda's arms was. "Yuugi…"

"He's okay," he said, shifting slightly so that Yuugi's face was visible over the blanket he was wrapped in. "Just out of it. Long day and not enough energy."

"We're all tired," said Yami, leaning back against the nearest counter. He paused, closing his eyes from the effort of speaking, and took a deep, weary breath. "Honda, we'll put aibou in bed, then… then you, Anzu and Ryou need food. Mai… you… make yourself at home. Jounouchi, futon's in the cupboard. I don't give a fuck what you do, tomb robber, as long as it's away from me, and Otogi… I don't even know where you came from. When did you show up?"

The black haired boy grinned, twirling a lock of hair around his finger. "When a stuffed dog starts crashing your neighbourhood, are you going to just sit around and wait to get squashed? I joined the party when I saw Mai-san heading out."

Yami stared at him, obviously trying to find the energy to be annoyed, but failed to manage it before Otogi reached out and slung Yami's arm around his shoulders. He pulled him upright, and nodded to Honda, still speaking to Yami. "You can tell me how grateful you are later. For now, you need as much sleep as Yuugi," he said, and cut off Yami's objections of dignity before they could even begin. "Yes, I know you'll be thanking me for weeks to come, but let's just leave it for now, hmm? Ryuuji Otogi, nice to meet you," he added to Omocha and Makito, forcing Yami to stumble past them.

The others exchanged smiles and started forward, most of them moving into the house as if they lived there. Mai hesitated, not as sure about even being in town now that the danger had passed, but Jounouchi's arm was still around her shoulders, and he was already moving, meaning she had to walk in or let go. She put a hand on his chest to steady him and helped him follow the rest of the group inside.

Sugoroku watched them go with an oddly proud expression on his face, then hummed to himself and turned to look out at the street. "There's probably three hours before I open the store. We should get started on cooking that lot some breakfast."

Omocha hesitated, then looked up at her husband. He stared at Sugoroku. "_What_? You're – _Breakfast_? They just – we just – what is wrong with – who – what –?"

The other two watched him for a moment, and Sugoroku smiled as only he and his grandson could, turning back to Omocha. "Shall we?"

"Well… it's just… they seemed awfully calm," she said slowly, pointing back at the house. "Is that normal, or should we be concerned?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I'm not usually here for the aftershock."

"Omoko – Grandfather – you two are –'_usually_'?" demanded Makito, staring from one to the other. "_What's going on here_?"

"I hate to say it, but I don't know any more than you, this time," said Omocha, smiling at him helplessly. She looked back at Sugoroku, her brow furrowed worriedly. "So what should we do?"

"Give them some time, I think," he said, nodding slowly. "Some sleep. Food. Lots of food. Most of them _are_ teenage boys, after all."

She nodded, following her father as he stepped up into the entrance hall, now crowded with their guests' shoes. They walked into the kitchen, moving as calmly as they would had Yuugi not just come home unconscious after over thirty hours running around risking his life.

Makito stared at them, then down at the collection of shoes cluttering up the miniscule entrance hall. He felt some of the furious panic leave him, giving way to a quiet daze as he gazed down at the shoes, brow furrowing in confusion.

They didn't fit together.

The shoes… the styles of shoes were all wrong.

He blinked, stepping up to stare down at them.

Expensive sneakers; baby-blue platform sandals; lace up army boots; stylish, buckled and most likely imported business shoes; punk-fashion zip boots; vivid purple, knee-high stilettos; scuffed jogging shoes; loafers; Yuugi's old faithful basketball shoes that he wore absolutely everywhere despite loathing basketball with a passion. The collection shouldn't have meshed.

Makito blinked, unable to comprehend the sight.

In making a group of friends, he never would have put that collection together. It wasn't right. The people that wore these shoes should not have gotten along.

And yet they did.

He folded his arms around himself, sinking down into a crouch. Everything was shaking still, but nothing was rattling. He frowned, wondering if it had something to do with the toys.

He slowly rocked back to sit on the ground, his knees against his chest and arms folded over the top.

He didn't know why the world was still shaking but nothing was rattling. He didn't understand why those shoes all looked so right together. He didn't know why Yuugi was unconscious, and he didn't know why no one was overly concerned. He didn't know who most of the people currently making themselves at home in his house were.

Makito Yosoushi had absolutely no idea what was going on.

The world started shaking a little more violently, and he bit his lip, hunching his shoulders.

He was beginning to think he never had.


	10. The Road Home

_**The Road Home**_

**DISCLAIMER**: All things must end, and even if you don't feel like you've reached the finish line, you always know when you're finally on the road home.

* * *

It was in a quiet stillness that Yuugi finally pried his eyes open.

He blinked slowly, noticing things one at a time, so that he realised the room was bathed in red light first, and then slowly came to notice that he was being pinned by a heavy weight over his left side. He took the time to appreciate that his legs were tangled with a pair of much more muscular ones, then reached up with his free arm, feeling for his clock to check the time.

Six-thirty. He gazed at the clock dimly for a moment, confused. His bedroom window faced south-west, according to Yami. And regardless of the direction, he didn't remember ever seeing a red sunrise in the city.

Sunset, then?

He put the clock back down and rolled his head to look at Yami, curled against his side like the cat he hated to be likened to, his eyelids barely moving as he reluctantly woke.

"Hey," whispered Yuugi. "Good morning."

He sighed in response, nuzzling Yuugi's shoulder. "It doesn't feel like morning," he mumbled. "Internal clock says it's later."

"That thing's always ten minutes late," joked Yuugi, grunting as Yami sleepily threw an arm into his stomach.

"You aren't funny, aibou. Don't try to be."

He smiled, closing his eyes again, and Yami snuggled even closer. They lay still for a moment, breathing deeply, and Yuugi hummed in the back of his throat. "M'tired."

"Yeah… me too. What time is it?"

"Six thirty." He felt Yami's eyelids flutter rapidly, and opened his own eyes to watch Yami lift his head, looking around.

"The sun's setting," said Yami, raising his eyebrows. "We slept more than twelve hours."

Memories of the previous few days had started filtering back to Yuugi, and he blinked wearily again, then smiled, leaning back into the pillow. "With the amount of energy we used yesterday, I don't know if I'm surprised. You looked exhausted when we finally sealed that guy," he said, and Yami looked down at him worriedly.

"Maybe… but all my energy comes from you. Are you alright?" he asked, but frowned when Yuugi nodded. "Really, aibou. You were hurt, and you collapsed last – this morning."

"I'm okay. You know me," he said, his smile broadening. "Give me a puzzle and I could recover from cancer."

"That's not funny."

"Wasn't really supposed to be," he replied calmly, and then yawned, stretching his arm toward the ceiling and flexing his fingers. He let it drop back to the bed, and watched in vague interest as Yami shifted up the bed to lean over him a little more.

"You were amazing," he said softly, reaching up to brush the hair back from Yuugi's face. "I really am proud of you, my aibou."

"I didn't do anything," he murmured, blushing. "You, Jounouch-kun and Bakura-kun were the ones that fought Jester. You sealed him back in the puzzle."

"Maybe. But you managed to protect our companions _and_ solve that jigsaw," he said, smiling warmly. He ran his hand through Yuugi's hair one more time, then soothed his finger down the side of Yuugi's face. "Considering you don't have much spiritual power anymore, aibou, that really is amazing."

His blush deepened, and he looked off to the side with a sheepish smile. Yami's lips pressed against his forehead, and he closed his eyes as the kiss moved to his eye ridge. He sighed, turning his head slightly to catch a kiss on the side of his mouth. "Comfortable…"

Yami blinked, frowning as he pulled back. "What?"

"I'm comfortable," he repeated softly. Yami continued to frown, confused, but when it became clear Yuugi wasn't going to elaborate, he smiled vaguely, leaning back down to the side of Yuugi's mouth.

"I'm comfortable, too," he murmured, and Yuugi smiled, shaking his head slightly before he leaned up into a proper kiss to his mouth.

Yuugi's hand rose up to rest on Yami's waist, sliding up and around his back as the kiss slowly deepened. His breathing hitched when skin touched his own, Yami pushing Yuugi's shirt up so his hand could rest against Yuugi's bare chest, but neither paused, and soon Yuugi found himself being pushed even further into the mattress. He hummed in the back of his throat, not really noticing what he was doing as his hands shifted into different, unfamiliar positions. Something niggled in the back of his mind, wondering whether this was really okay, but he shoved it away as he finally tugged Yami's shirt free and found warm skin.

"Oh-kay, bad timing!" cried a familiar voice, and they both froze, their eyes snapping open to stare at each other.

"You idiot, I was enjoying that!" said another, and Yuugi clenched his eyes shut again in horror. "Carry on, Yuugi, uh… what was his name again?"

"Yami," muttered the first voice.

"Yami! Seriously. We'll just close the door and walk away. Promise."

Yami pulled back just enough to sigh heavily and lean against Yuugi's forehead instead. "Why do I find that highly unlikely?"

Mai laughed, and Yami rolled over, leaning back on his elbows to glare at her half-heartedly. Yuugi, now free of Yami's weight completely, sunk under the bed sheets and out of sight, sobbing out a mortified groan.

Jounouchi took a deep breath, his eyes on a corner of the ceiling. "So we came up here to see if you guys were awake yet. I think your Mum's having nervous breakdown over what Mai and Anzu did to her kitchen—"

"She's having a nervous breakdown because of what you and Honda did to her living room," corrected Mai, levelling him with a look to make most men fear.

Jounouchi, however, just scoffed and folded his arms. He had spent the last two years getting beaten up by Anzu – Mai's looks were nothing. "You melted her chopping board."

"You created a warzone. That room looks like a bomb hit it!"

"Hey, you slept there too!"

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you could all just go home," suggested Yami.

They blinked at him, then snorted and turned back to their argument. He stared at them for a moment, then lifted the sheets to look down at Yuugi, who was blushing red and hiding his face in Yami's side.

Yami smiled sympathetically. "I think our friends might need a little supervision, don't you, aibou?"

"Uh huh," he said weakly.

He smirked, raising an eyebrow when Yuugi didn't so much as shift. "How about I go down and delegate blame while you stay here?"

"I like that idea," he whispered, still embarrassed.

Yami grinned, then put down the sheet again and slid out of bed, casually collecting Jounouchi and Mai's biceps to bring them along as he strode out of the room.

* * *

If he were the type to complain, Yuugi had to admit he felt like some of the worse bullies of Domino Freshman year had taken to him with a vengeance. Every single muscle in his body ached, and he could swear his bones had knitted together like the school skeleton after Jounouchi had taken it upon himself to 'fix' it.

He yawned, stretching his arm up over his head, the other hand rising to take hold of his elbow and pull. The more intellectual part of his mind was telling him to go crawling to Yami and beg a massage, but he knew Yami would immediately latch on to the fact that if not for the darkness, there would be no pain, and he would then blame himself. Again. And he would then probably start moping. Again. And with the gin tournament and Yami's first real chance to break into the gaming circuit coming up, Yuugi didn't want him to be concerned with anything but cards.

So that left Yuugi to crack his joints one by one and consider a trip to the public baths. The steam would do his muscles good, after all.

With a painful crack, Yuugi's shoulder slipped back into its socket, and he hissed out the pain as his arm dropped back to his side. Thank the gods school was starting again soon – trouble never seemed to bother him so much when he had exams to worry about.

He stopped at that, coming to a sharp halt outside the laundry room as that thought hit him. If he was thanking higher beings for school work, then he really had a lot more than Yami feeling guilty to worry about.

"Yuugi? What are you doing up?"

He blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts to smile at Anzu as she stepped out of the kitchen. While most of the others had left after Yami had woken up and begun glaring for the mess they had made of his home, Anzu had stuck around to help make dinner and mother Yuugi to an infuriating degree.

"I thought I told you to stay in bed," she said sternly, holding up a wooden spoon to point at him. "You know supporting Yami's magic messes with your body, and after the last few days, you don't have the energy to properly support an immune system. You could catch cold and die right now! Get upstairs and stay in bed!"

"I'm fine, Anzu!" he said, waving her off. "I'm just a little tired, that's all!"

"You're lethargic? Do you know how many diseases that could be?" she demanded, and even though he had to grin in response, she walked over to check his temperature. "But seriously, Yuugi, we start our final year in a few days. You can't get sick right now."

He laughed, stepping back out of reach. "You know, between you and the other me, I feel like I should be wrapped in cotton wool, just so you guys can stop worrying. I promise I'm not gonna break just because a few toys start acting up!" He chuckled, but Anzu's returning smile was cut off as Yuugi suddenly grunted, freezing up to accommodate a new spike in his back. She immediately glared at him, and he grinned, holding up his hands defensively. "Ah, now hold on! It was just a twinge! Honest!"

"The hell it is, I bet you hurt all over and you're just playing tough," she snapped, and then glared into the laundry, taking note of the open sliding door with a disaproving huff. "You're trying to kill yourself! Standing in front of an open doorway where the cold can get at you and make things worse! I should tell Yami about this, he _would _wrap you up in cotton and tie you into bed!"

"Honestly, Anzu, you're over- The door's open?" he asked suddenly, blinking. He hadn't noticed, too busy weighing the possible outcomes of his pain.

Anzu growled warningly, but Yuugi just stepped past her, concerned. His mother was the only one to use the side door; the only one that really used the minscule backyard that it led onto. Usually it was kept locked, and Yuugi's city-born security bells were suddenly ringing over it being left ajar. Catching the hint, Anzu straightened up and gripped her spoon tighter, glancing left and right before following him into the laundry to check.

But it was only his parents, sitting in a pair of rusting folding chairs beneath the washing line. Yuugi smiled, waving at them thoughtlessly as Anzu peeked over his head. "Forgive the intrusion. Saw the door open and thought I should check," he said, and Omocha nodded.

"Mm. No, it's just us," she said, then frowned at him. "Should you be out of bed? I thought everyone agreed you should just rest for the next few days."

He scowled as Anzu crowed in triumph, and waved both women off before moving back inside. Anzu started shuffling him back into the house proper, but he shook his head at her and silently crouched down, leaning close to the door.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, lowering herself to one knee and glaring at him. "Let's go. I have a dinner to cook and you have blankets to be under!"

"Shh!" He motioned her down beside him, speaking quietly enough that she had to lean in to hear him properly. "My parents don't talk, Anzu."

"What? What do you think they're doing, then?" she shot back, but he just frowned at her and gestured toward the door.

Anzu could only steam for the next few seconds, until Makito said something too quietly for the two listening teenagers to hear, and they automatically shuffled closer to the door.

"No, it's nothing to do with that," Omocha was saying. "It's just because of the things he does lately – it's best for everyone that after times like these he just lets himself recover for a day or two."

"What happens if he doesn't?" asked Makito, and Yuugi frowned at how weak his voice sounded.

"We're not sure. They don't tell us things like that. But I would assume it would just extend how long he needs to recover, which, all things considered, is probably unwise," Omocha sighed, and there was a shifting of cloth as she moved. "But then, who am I to say? It's not like I really know what's going on here."

Makito didn't so much as grunt in reply, and Yuugi's frown deepened. His father was many things, but he was never quiet, especially when it came to his family. Not that he really knew him well enough to make assumptions, but Yuugi had always thought it was some kind of assurance mechanism. When Makito didn't know what was going on, he announced his understandings of things, and to Yuugi's knowledge, no one had ever corrected him. For him to be quiet when Omocha said she had no idea what was going on was more than a little disturbing.

"It does get easier."

"Hm?"

There was a quiet clunk, and Yuugi could just imagine Omocha putting her feet up against the fence. "You get used to not knowing anything; to watching him run off and not knowing what's happened. It gets easier."

"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Makito, but there was no force behind it. He sounded hopeless in a way Yuugi couldn't remember hearing before. "It isn't like this happens often."

"No… Once every few months…"

Makito swore, and Yuugi instinctively grabbed the doorframe for balance, shocked.

"What the hell is this?" muttered Makito. "Some kind of comic book?"

"It would certainly suit the stereotype."

"It's not funny, Omocha."

"No, but laughing definitely makes it much easier to accept," she said softly, before a sudden creak told of Makito lurching to his feet.

"It isn't funny!" he hissed angrily. "We shouldn't have to accept it! None of this should be happening, dammit!"

"There isn't much we can do to stop it, anata."

"Of course there is! We're the _parents_, Omocha! Parents are supposed to guide their children and show them how things are done! They're supposed to stop their children when things get out of their depth!" he whipsered quickly. "And we don't know what the hell is going on here! We don't know what Yuugi's doing or why! We don't even know vague details!"

"We know he's hurt and we know he's safe now. That's all we need to know."

"But we don't know! We don't _know _the danger's passed! You said it yourself: he's not at his fighting best and that could be a problem! We don't know why, but we know it is and we know there are possibilities! He could be at death's door and we wouldn't know!"

There was a pause, and Yuugi glanced over his shoulder at Anzu. She just frowned back at him, concerned, but didn't make any moves to pull him back into the house. The conversation had caught her interest now, too.

"What would you suggest we do, Makito?" asked Omocha, her voice carefully even. "It's not like we can walk in there and demand they stop what they're doing. Perhaps you didn't notice, but if not for those kids, the whole country would be flattened by a rampaging teddy bear by now."

"So what do you think we should do? Just sit around and wait for children to tell us everything's alright? Watch news bulletins we know are lying while we cook food in the false hope our little boy might tell us some little titbit of fact? Wrap bandages and play nurse to wounds that weren't there two days ago and were caused by things science can't explain?" he demanded, just barely keeping his voice low. "Is that what you think we should do, Omocha? Just accept that we don't know what's going on and can't do anything about it?"

"Yes!" she whispered back, her chair creaking as she moved. "Yes, Makito, that is what we should do! It's what we always do! It's what I've been doing for eighteen _years_, Makito!"

Yuugi clenched his eyes shut, rocking back onto his haunches until he was leaning against the washing machine. Anzu touched his shoulder, but still neither of them moved, listening hard for any kind of response.

"Seventeen months ago, my son disappeared overnight, and I didn't even know," Omocha continued. "My father was very nearly murdered by a _fifteen _year old trying to get Yuugi back, and I had no idea! I didn't know until six months later, when my father had his very soul sucked out of his body and my son just up and disappeared for three days! Twelve months ago, my son was kidnapped _again_, and this time nearly burnt to a crisp, and you know what explanation I got, Makito? 'Otogi-san was a little confused'. That was all the information I heard on why my son was abducted and then stayed in a burning building to rebuild an old puzzle!"

Yuugi cringed, glancing at Anzu from the corner of his eye, and she raised her eyebrows. At the time, there didn't seem to have been much else they could have said.

"We don't get information. We aren't _important_ enough to get information. We make do with what we get and we accept it," she said firmly. "This time, everyone is whole and relatively healthy, and they're actually home where I can see them. So yes, Makito, I am going to play nurse and listen to lying news reports and just sit and wait and pray that one day Yuugi tells me something because that is what parents do, Makito! They wait for their children to trust them! Parents trust their kids!"

"What parents?" he shot back. "What parents are we, Omocha?"

"What?" muttered Yuugi, just as Omocha asked the same.

"Parents, Omocha! Parents know their children! I don't know what's going on in his head! I don't even know what he's literally doing for most of the day! The last four years, I thought he was being a proper student and making friends and girlfriends and playing guitar and I didn't need to know what else! Now I find out he's been hiding acid in his cupboard and learning how to kill monsters! And I don't know if he actually has or that's just what he's telling me because I sure as _fuck _don't know when he's lying to me!"

Yuugi gaped, leaning back in shock. "Dad…"

"I've spent at least ten years of my son's life overseas. But whenever I come back, he's always been the same, with just little differences to show he's grown up! I make assumptions and I'm always right because I know my boy but this time I came back and it's all different and wrong and I don't know what's going on and maybe I never did!" he cried, all pretense of quiet gone in his sudden panic. "And you're exactly the same, you just told me! You don't know what's going on! You don't know, I don't know, grandfather _might _know what's going on but he spent at least twenty years of his life running around gaming and that made him a lunatic anyway so what the hell, Omocha!"

"Maki-"

"We're thirty-eight, we're adults, we are supposed to know what is going on in our lives, but here we are and people half our age know better than us! My son's punk friends can give orders like generals and kings and have absolutely no problem saving the day before turning around to order dozens of people to safety! I could only stand there like a child as my own son saved my life and didn't even notice!" he cried. "Parents are supposed to help their children; they're supposed to know everything they've been through and know how to help them, but you said it yourself – we _can't _help! We aren't qualified! We aren't qualified to know what they're doing and we aren't qualified to be parents!"

There was a long pause, only broken by Makito's ragged panting, and Yuugi suddenly realised Anzu was gripping his arm tight enough to leave marks. He glanced at her, and she leaned in closer, pressing into his side and waiting.

"I'm not even qualified to be your husband," Makito continued weakly. "I don't know you. I thought I did, but – Here we are and I look at you and you're just… not who I thought you were."

Yuugi swallowed hard, licking his lips as another pause extended past his counting.

"Who did you think I was, Makito?" Omocha asked quietly, and Yuugi barely noticed Anzu's chipped nails digging into his arm.

"I – I don't even know…" Makito murmured breathlessly. "I just – I remember and… you were so much fun. You used to hit me with anything that was handy and laugh at me and tell me I was wrong… We used to walk by the canals and talk about our families and friends and work and life and – and now I think and… It's just not you. I always thought it was, but it's not! I don't remember the last time you hit me. I don't remember the last time you told me I was wrong! I'm just – I've been in love with this damn image and I'm wrong and I don't know what –"

Metal creaked, and cloth rustled as Makito cut off again, his ragged breathing the only sound. Yuugi hesitated a moment, then chanced a peek around the corner before finching and shoving himself back into Anzu. Omocha was standing now, leaning into Makito's front as she carefully gathered him up in her arms. It was the kind of comfort he and Yami exchanged, and he suddenly realised he hadn't been prepared to see it from anyone else. He had only seen it for a split second, but it was warm and comfortable and far too intimate for anyone to be watching.

He licked his lips again before looking up at Anzu, who just stared back at him helplessly. Neither of them had ever really considered the people they occasionally saved. Most of the time, the world was just a minor consequence to the outcome of their personal issues and duels, so they honestly had no idea how to deal with things like this.

For a moment, they just sat and stared at each other, listening to the soft sounds of Makito and Omocha comforting each other. It was an incredibly unsettling realisation: even with all they had done, neither Yuugi or Anzu knew anything about this kind of problem.

But then, Yuugi slowly realised, he probably wasn't supposed to.

In eighteen years of life, Yuugi had never been honest with his father. That was a bad thing, and he knew it, but at the came time, he had always thought it was necessary. Keeping the peace was something his mother had always fought to do, and he wanted to do the same.

But peace wasn't really a part of his life. He was the other half of the Dark King of Games – a balance to the very essence of chaos and destruction. He was probably never going to be normal again.

But his parents _were _normal. They had real life problems like money and family and things that while Yuugi did have to worry about them, they weren't really important. He would always have Yami and his friends, but his parents had to work to keep their relationships. Problems like that just weren't an issue to Yuugi. He had no place in worrying about them.

His parents had no place in fighting the Dark Games – that was a given. Maybe that meant he had no place fighting their battles, either.

Maybe that was why the last two weeks had failed so spectacularly.

He sighed, lowering his eyes to the floor as he let that thought echo through his mind. After a moment, he slowly shook his head and pushed himself to standing, holding out a hand to help Anzu to her feet.

* * *

"We shouldn't be here."

Yami raised an eyebrow, looking around at Jounouchi in surprise. It had only taken two days after the Toy Attack, but Makito had suddenly announced he was leaving. Considering how easily Domino had eased back into its usual routine, no one could really blame him for feeling disturbed. Those who hadn't lived in Battle City had never learned how to cope with excitement becoming mundane.

What surprised them was that Omocha was going with him. But she had told Anzu that it was really to try and get her relationship with Makito back on stable ground, and rediscover her personality. Yami had wished her luck and asked if she would bring him back Atlantian gold before ducking Yuugi's fist.

"Do you mean physically or spiritually?" asked Honda. "Because if you mean we literally shouldn't be at the gate, then yeah. This doesn't have anything to do with us. But since when've we ever let Yuugi go anywhere on his own?"

"Mai-san's right about us. We are ducklings," sighed Anzu.

"No, you idiot, I mean the airport's bad kharma!" said Jounouchi, waving at their surroundings. "Think about it! Every time we've been anywhere near an airport, we're always just coming back from a life or death situation or we're about to start one. This is seriously tempting fate."

Yami smirked, rolling his eyes back to where Yuugi was standing with his family. "I don't know… I think I've fought a few good fights recently."

"Oh yeah. Huge danger – a teddy bear might huggle me to death! Scary," drawled Jounouchi, but Anzu just smacked him across the back of the head and joined Yami in watching the family.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, not really listening to Jounouchi and Honda chattering behind them, before Anzu nudged Yami's arm, giving him a meaningful look. "Anything I should know happen in the last few days?"

He frowned, then shrugged one shoulder, feigning nonchalence. "If our positions were reversed, would you tell me?"

"Yami…"

"Nothing's changed," he said, then lowered his gaze to the floor. "I'm beginning to think nothing ever will. I thought there was something there, but it all started because of an act and… I don't know. Maybe it always was."

"You could ask."

He stared at her incredulously, and she laughed, waving it off again. "It's an idea!" she said, then tilted her head at him meaningfully. "Yami, this is something you need to find out. It's something _Yuugi _needs to know. You can't keep pretending forever."

"I know," he said grudgingly, then sighed and looked away. "But it's nice while it lasts."

She frowned at him, but he refused to look at her again, and she was eventually forced to turn back to the family, smiling when Omocha leaned down to hug Yuugi tightly.

"You be good. I don't want to hear about you landing yourself in the hospital again," said Omocha, giving him an extra squeeze for good measure.

"You won't, Mum, I promise," replied Yuugi, rolling his eyes. "The only thing you'll hear from me is my grades."

"Which are going to be better this year, aren't they?" added Makito, and Yuugi grinned nervously.

"Uh… yeah."

They chuckled, and Omocha stepped back so that she and Makito could look him over one last time. He ducked his head, spreading his hands in silent question, and Makito rubbed his neck as he stepped forward to speak with him.

"You know, Yuugi… I know I'm not always… what I'm supposed to be, but… I really do have to tell you… I just… I… don't _like _Yami," he said finally, and Yuugi sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"I know. And I really… don't care"

He nodded, then smiled and clapped his hand against Yuugi's shoulder. "Which is probably a good thing. Fathers are supposed to hate their son-in-laws, right?"

Yuugi twitched, the thought never having really occurred to him before, and Makito laughed, reaching up to ruffle his hair. "You're a good kid, Yuugi," he said, and then paused, looking him over again. "You really are going to be a great man some day."

They both stopped at that, Yuugi's eyes flicking up to meet his gaze, and Makito frowned, shifting his hands to Yuugi's shoulders. "I know I used to tell you that we'd change your name someday, but if this visit has taught me anything, it's—"

"—that I'm not a Yosoushi," finished Yuugi, and Makito nodded once.

"No. You're a Mutou. Yuugi Mutou," he said seriously, before his eyes narrowed into a smile. "You aren't the son I was supposed to have, Yuugi. But you're the only one I'll ever want."

Yuugi flinched, staring at him in surprise, and then swallowed hard, blinking back sudden tears. "Dad?"

"I don't know if I'll come back to Domino any time soon, but next time a tournament brings you close by, come visit me, okay?" he asked, and then quickly pulled him into a hug. Yuugi could only stand stiff, too shocked to react, before Makito suddenly pulled away and stood up. "Well, we've probably missed last call by now. Say good bye to your friends for me, Yuugi."

He blinked, uncomprehending as Omocha hugged him again.

"Until next time, Yuugi," she whispered, kissing his cheek before straightening to follow her husband through the boarding area.

Yuugi continued to stare as they disappeared into the boarding gate, but his shoulders finally slumped as Yami and the others stepped up around him to watch as the stewards finally closed the doors. He blinked at Yami's hand on his arm, feeling some semblance of thought return.

"You alright?" murmured Yami, and he blinked again, then slowly nodded once.

"Maybe," he said jerkily. "It's just… People keep… doing this to me. They suddenly show up, wreack havoc in my life and then leave."

"I'm sure we'll get used to it eventually," said Yami, letting go of Yuugi's arm in favour of his own hip.

They stood in companionable silence, watching the huge windows as the planes outside lifted off and touched down in soundproofed silence. It took Yuugi several minutes to realise Jounouchi was frowning.

"What's wrong, Jounouch-kun?"

"We're missing something," he said firmly, and they all stared at him. He folded his arms, scowling at the window. "This isn't right. Yuugi's dad came home, we finally realise he has a family out there, and then both his parents leave without so much as challenging Yami to a duel! It's all… unfinished."

They continued staring at him blankly, and he raised an eyebrow, looking down at Yuugi seriously.

"Think about it. Every time someone new comes into our lives, we either have to have a fight with them or learn something from them. Usually both," he added, then turned to face them. "This time, the only fight we had was nothing to do with Uncle Makito, and I really don't see anything different that we've learned."

"You obviously weren't threatened to be arrested," said Yami, glaring at the plane that was taxiing away from the window outside. "I've had more than enough fighting for one holiday."

"Yeah, but if you're going to count that, then you might as well say you're always getting into fights," said Honda. "Every time we go to the arcade is another fight."

"Exactly. We didn't learn anything!" cried Jounouchi. "This is completely unfinished and totally unacceptable, man!"

Anzu and Yami exchanged glances, silently agreeing the headache was worth the secret, but after hesitating for an extra moment it was Yuugi that finally answered.

"I think it's more that you weren't there for most of the developments, Jounouch-kun," he said quietly.

"Developments? What developments?" he demanded. "Everything you and Yami went through for that guy was for nothing! There was no great battle! No moral! What development?"

He stopped, then fixed Yami with a wary eye, suspicious. "Wait. You guys aren't going to tell me that me and Mai actually did walk in on something yesterday…"

"Nah. The last week's just been for Mum's story," said Yuugi, before Yami could so much as shift blank expressions. Both Yami and Anzu looked at him, but Yuugi just shrugged, reaching back so casually that anyone else would have looked absent as he slid his hand into Yami's.

Anzu blinked, and Yami stiffened for a moment before carefully lacing their fingers together, only barely containing his reaction when Yuugi squeezed back.

"The biggest developments take time, Jounouch-kun. I'm talking about little ones," continued Yuugi, as they all turned toward the exit. "Dad's not the type to come in and change everything really drastically. He works with little things."

"Oh yeah? Like plot points before the moral, right?" asked Jounouchi.

"Mm. Little things that lead to the road home," he said, and Yami closed his eyes with a small smile, tightening his grip on Yuugi's hand.

With a homecoming like this, he could handle the road there.

* * *


End file.
